Shards
by Ryous lil Tenshi
Summary: A collection of Tendershipping oneshots. Angsty oneshots mainly... With a REAL, ACTUAL update! I'm just as shocked as you are...
1. AddictionEscape

Ehehehehehe...

What can I say? It's angsty, twisted, and (In my opinion) A fine one-shot. XD

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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"Why do you drink?"

Ryou raises bleary eyes as Bakura asks the question. He makes a face, before looking back down into his glass. He takes a gulp of the strawberry vodka. The silence between them stretches, each second passing like a millennia.

"Why do you smoke?" Ryou whispers softly, his lip against the glass. He watches the glass fog for a moment, before taking another small sip of the thick liquid, tinted slight rose.

"I asked first." Bakura counters, raising the cigarette to his lips. He surveys Ryou underneath his spiky bangs for a moment, observing, as he always did, the fine, high-boned contours of his face. He stares at the whitenette's soft lips, sweet and pink from the alcohol.

"To escape." Ryou finally whispers. Bakura makes no movement at Ryou's words, still staring at his plump, perfect lips. "To create my own reality." Tears glisten in glazed grown eyes. "I hate the world…"

"So you drown your problems in alcohol." Bakura sighs, exhaling a cloud of thick blueish smoke. He still stares at Ryou, watching the way he lowers his head in shame, chewing on his lower lip.

"Why do you smoke?" The whitenette repeats, lifting his head. Wide, dull brown eyes stare into orbs of crimson unflinchingly. Bakura snarls slightly as his light challenges him, and takes another drag of the smoke.

"What can I say?" He exhales another cloud of smoke. "I'm addicted." Ryou sighs as he drains his glass, and Bakura watches as he shakily stands up. He wavers on his feet, holding a hand to his forehead.

"I need another drink." Ryou mutters, his cheeks flushed. Bakura narrows his eyes even further, the grip on his half-smoked cigarette tightening. He watches as Ryou staggers into the kitchen, intoxicated.

"No." Ryou blinks, and stops in his tracks at the sound of the yami's voice. He turns his head, lank white hair trailing around his shoulders as he does so. Bakura stands up, stubbing the cigarette out on the ashtray.

"What?" Ryou whispers, closing his eyes for a short moment. Bakura catches a mere glimpse of his closed eyes, a full view of his translucent eyelids and dark purple circles under his eyes, like smudges of ink.

"Sleep more." Bakura commands, eyeing Ryou's deteriorating condition. The whitenette ignores him, staggering into the kitchen. The empty glass dangles from his left hand as he pulls open the fridge door, leaning slightly against the appliance.

"Fuck you." Ryou mumbles weakly. "'S your fault." Bakura wrinkles his nose, and marches into the kitchen. Ryou gasps as the yami grabs a slim, bony wrist. He presses the bundle of tendons at the base of the teenagers' palm, digging in with a sharp, cruel nail, and Ryou hisses. His neck arches slightly as the glass tumbles to the floor, and shatters, tiny fragment of glass skidding across the fading tiles.

"_Listen _to me." Bakura hisses. He easily forces Ryou against the humming refrigerator, slamming the door, and stares down into those glazed, blank eyes. The strawberry-laced alcohol hangs in the air around the pair, making Bakura blink.

"Go 'way…" The words are fuzzy in Ryou's tongue, and his head droops. Bakura stares down in disgust at the drunk teen, and with a clawlike hand, forces Ryou's chin up.

"No." He seethes, his sharp nails digging into pristine, ivory-hued skin. Ryou whimpers, keep his eyes closed. Bakura isn't staring at Ryou's eyes anymore; he is staring once more at Ryou's lips. Those soft, full, rosebud lips that were parted slightly, the faint aroma of strawberry clinging to the pink skin…

Ryou's eyes snap open when Bakura kisses him. It is not a kiss of love, as Bakura grips his forearms, in a diluted mockery of an embrace. It is raw lust that drives him to force Ryou's mouth open with his tongue, thrusting past those soft, beautiful lips to delve into the frail teenager's hot sweet mouth. He groans at the taste of strawberries, almost overpowered by the sharp sting of alcohol. Ryou stands in shock, his mind fuzzy and confused from the vodka. He is vaguely aware of the taller, muscular frame pressed flush against him, and the stale, fuggy taste of cigarettes on Bakura's tongue as he continues to lustfully assault his mouth. He moans softly, although he inwardly hates himself for it. His hands, which are limp at his sides, slowly start to slide up the side of Bakura's thighs. The yami gasps, his breath hitching in mid-kiss. He digs his nails tighter into the delicate skin of Ryou's slender arms as the teenager's fingertips glide up the black denim. Ryou's cloudy eyes, half-lidded, close completely, and Bakura gets another glimpse of Ryou's translucent eyelids.

Slowly, Ryou's hands reach the waistband of Bakura's jeans. His fingertips brush the inch of skin between the yami's shirt and trousers, and Bakura shudders, trembling at the touch. Ryou almost desperately shoves his hands up the back of Bakura's charcoal tank top, running his hands over the skin. His fingers trace the outlines of muscles and bones, earning a long, low groan from Bakura. The taste of cigarettes in his mouth makes Ryou want to gag, but he forces the sensation down, choosing instead to focus on the sheer feeling of Bakura's tongue exploring his mouth.

"Fuck." Ryou gasps as Bakura swears, tearing his mouth away from the fragile whitenette. "You are drunk." Ryou whines slightly, dragging his hands further up Bakura's back so he can press himself up closer against the yami. He knows that what he's doing is wrong, and it's only going to end up creating a million more problems, but at that moment, it felt _bloody _good.

"Fuck me." Bakura's eyes are wide as Ryou yanks him down, whispering the words in his ear, a desperate, keening gasp. He opens his eyes to look up at Bakura, who is staring down him in vague confusion. The yami's mouth falls open; those were the last words he expected to tumble from those perfect, finely cut lips. Ryou whimpers again as he digs his nails in Bakura's back, as though he wanted to crawl inside his skin. "_Please._" Bakura's cool exterior had flown out the window as he looked down at the drunk teenager, who looked up at him, lips parted, and eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust and alcohol. He stands stock still for at least a minute, gripping Ryou's arms and looking down at his light. Ryou's chest heaved as he gasped for air, his lips still parted. At that moment, Bakura couldn't have thought of a more arousing image if he tried.

"Fuck yes." Bakura gasps, before he crashes their lips together. Ryou's drags his nails across Bakura's back as Bakura assaults his mouth. This time, he returns the kiss with equal unbridled lust and passion, ignoring the stale tang of smoke. Bakura's hands slide up Ryou's arms, until he finds the collar of Ryou's shirt. The shirts opens up almost immediately, buttons flinging in all directions as Bakura tears the cloth in his hands easily. The shirt is dragged off Ryou's slim torso, and thrown impatiently to the floor, a puddle of cotton the shade of a robins' egg.

It isn't long before the rest of the clothing that dons the two boys is strewn hastily across the kitchen. Ryou cries out as Bakura vehemently shoves his naked, slim frame to the floor, fragments of glass dripping with vodka clinging and slicing into his pale, prefect skin. There are no more kisses as Bakura roughly takes the younger whitenette, relishing every moan, gasp, and scream that comes out of those bruised, swollen lips.

And Ryou loves every moment of it.

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Bakura is silent as Ryou tips the vodka down the sink.

The teenager is pale and red-eyed, both hung-over and exhausted from the hours of 'love'making he had endured the night before. His tousled hair hides his face, and Bakura wipes the tangled locks out of his soft brown eyes, tucking them behind a perfectly shaped ear. The aroma fills the air, but Ryou pretends not to notice, tossing the now empty bottle to the floor. It clatters against the half-a-dozen others, and Bakura nods approvingly.

"That's all of them." Ryou whispers, staring down at the floor. He kicks one of the bottles, watching it skid across the tiles. He holds out his hand, the other resting on his hip. Bakura chews on his lower lip. "The smokes." The yami sighs, and extracts the red-and-white carton from the breast pocket of his shirt. Ryou coughs, staring at the yami with red-rimmed eyes. "Lighter."

"Here." Bakura mutters shortly, slapping the metallic lighter in Ryou's hand. Ryou turns, and carelessly dumps them down the trash chute. Bakura is silent, his crimson eyes fixated on the floor as Ryou walks towards him, and softly takes Bakura's hand.

"We don't need them." Ryou whispers, a small –very small- smile on his face. Bakura lifts his crimson gaze from the tiles, traveling up Ryou's slim frame. He locks eyes with the whitenette, reading the expression in Ryou's melted chocolate depths.

The kiss is mutual. Ryou grabs fistfuls of wild white hair, while Bakura slides his hands into the waistband of Ryou's jeans, his hands crushed against the silky skin of Ryou's flawless round rear. Ryou was right. After all…

Bakura had his addiction.

And Ryou had his escape.

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Hehehe... finally, a place to store all of those crappy oneshots I come up with. XD

R&R!


	2. Losing The Nerve

This is like... Really, really REALLY weird. O.o;; I'm so sorry. I got the plot bunny, thought it all out, and wrote it in less than an hour. Hence the shortness and crappyness. XD Oh well, I think it conveyed the message I wanted it to. o.o' Have fun reading it?

Disclaimer:I own nothing at all... xD

Read on...eth!

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"Well, look who's home."

Bakura snarled the words, not shifting his eyes from the television. Ryou was silent as he closed the door behind him, his backpack dangling from one hand. The yami was stretched out across the couch, one hand behind his head. One leg dangled over the side of the couch, his foot less than an inch from the floor. A metallic _click_ a few feet away from Bakura made him blink. The yami turned his head carelessly for a quick gaze, before looking back to the television. He froze.

Ryou was holding a gun.

"Fuck!" Bakura cursed, sitting straight up on the couch, staring wide-eyed at the angelic-looking teenager. Ryou held the revolver in both of his shaking hands, staring down at the barrel, aiming at the yami. "Ryou… What the fuck?"

"I bought it off a kid from school." The whitenette's voice was oddly steady. "I've been saving for weeks, and I just got it today. I'm going to kill you, Bakura. I'm going to fucking kill you." Bakura's fleeting expression of panic changed, and he burst into a chuckle, which was laced with mirth.

"You?" He laughed, standing up. Ryou took a step back, pointing the gun at Bakura's chest. "Kill someone? Me, no less? Ha." He placed his hands on his hips, staring straight into Ryou's wide brown eyes. "You couldn't even kill a fly, Ryou, let alone your master-"

"_You are not my master!_" Ryou burst into tears, his right index finger tightening over the trigger. "You're not… You never were…" His hands shook worse than ever, and Bakura only looked on in mild surprise.

"You don't have the guts to kill me." The yami said smoothly. He wasn't the least bit concerned. "You're all talk Ryou." Bakura took another step towards Ryou, flinging out his arms. "Go ahead. Take a fucking shot." Ryou took a step back, the nozzle of the gun shaking as he aimed at Bakura's heart. "You wont." Bakura sneered. "You don't have the guts. You're too-"

"_I'm not weak!_" Ryou screamed, tears coursing down pale, pristine cheeks. "Don't you _ever_ dare say that! I'm not weak, Bakura. I'm not! And you have no right to beat me and wear me down and say that I am!" Bakura merely raised an eyebrow, his arms still outstretched. "I'm going to kill you." The pale teenager repeated, his voice shaking almost as much as his hands.

"No, you're not." Bakura chuckled. "You're weak. You've always been weak. Come on, Ryou. All you have to do is just jerk back your finger, and I'm done. This body will be dead. But you don't have the guts, do you?"

"_Shut up!_" Ryou screamed, his shaking voice hoarse. He had bit his lip so hard, a small stream of blood trickled down his chin. "Shut the_ fuck_ up!" Bakura blinked, staring at Ryou, who was beside himself. "I can do this! I'm _going_ to do this! You deserve it, Bakura! You deserve to die, because you can't push me around anymore. I've had enough!" Bakura only laughed, shaking his head.

"Ger over yourself, brat." He snarled. "Drop the gun. Quit fooling yourself that you can kill me. You can't kill anyone." Ryou shook his head, sobbing. "Drop the gun, Ryou." The teenager shook his head again, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Bakura growled, dropping his arms to the side. His hands clenched into fists, and he gritted his teeth.

"Y-You don't scare me." Ryou announced, shaking his head to rid the hair out of his eyes. He glared at Bakura defiantly, ignoring the blood on his face.

"Put the gun down, Ryou." Bakura sighed. Ryou shook his head, but he was looking less and less sure of himself. "You know you can't do it. You _want_ to, oh, you want to kill me so badly, I'm sure, but unfortunately, you just don't have the guts." Ryou shook his head again, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed.

"I-I can do it." He whimpered softly, lowering the gun just an inch. "I-I can. R-Really. I-I'm not afraid of you, Bakura. Y-You don't scare me anymore." The teenager's voice broke, and Bakura laughed. Ryou looked down, ashamed, and sniffed.

"You're a mess, Ryou." Bakura snarled. "You have three seconds to drop the gun, and I won't punish you. Understand?" Ryou was still, glaring at Bakura with pure hate in his eyes. "One…" Ryou tightened his left hand on the handle, pulled the trigger back a fraction. "Two…" Ryou's hands clenched even tighter, and he glared at Bakura still, not look as though he would back down. "Three."

Ryou's nerve failed him. Just as the yami's lips stared to move, Ryou dropped the gun. The revolver bounced off the carpet once, and was still. Ryou's entire frame shook as he looked up at Bakura, his chin trembling. Tears were shining in his eyes, and Ryou's legs gave out. He sank to his knees, holding his head in his hands. Bakura stared down at Ryou coldly, his hands on his hips. He bent down, and grabbed the gun.

"Too bad _I'm_ not afraid to kill." Bakura sneered, pressing the barrel of the gun against Ryou's temple. The teenager gasped, and froze in pure fear, too afraid to move or breathe. "And I ought to, for your display of disobedience." Ryou whimpered, his nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists. The teenager made an odd, strangled noise in his throat as Bakura pressed the nozzle of the gun deeper into the side of Ryou's head. "But I think I'll go easy on you today." Ryou's shoulders visibly slumped as Bakura stepped back, idly swinging the gun in his fingers. The teenager instantly curled into a tight ball, burying his head in his folded legs, between his knees and his chest. "Not that you don't get a punishment." Bakura smiled, aiming the gun at Ryou's foot.

A glass, containing the dregs of a soft drink on the coffee table actually shattered as Ryou screamed. It came a second after the loud _crack_ of the gunshot filled the apartment, the stench of gunpowder lingering in the air. The whitenette clutched at his foot, howling in agony. Bakura smirked as blood gently trickled through his fingers, starting to stain the carpet. There was no sympathy, or kindness on the yamis' face as he knelt down on the carpet beside Ryou, the gun falling to the floor as he leaned in, whispering the next words into Ryou's ear.

"Stop crying." He hissed, grabbing Ryou's bony shoulder. Ryou gasped as Bakura's sharp nails dug into his skin, and arched his back. He bit down on his lip hard to keep from screaming and sobbing, clutching at his shot foot. "Good boy." Bakura chuckled, staring down at his handiwork. "Now… What have we learned today, Ryou?" The teenager whimpered, his clenched shut. He wouldn't be able to walk for weeks…

"Th-That I'm weak." Ryou tried to chose his words as best as he could, his foot throbbing. "That… That you're the master, and I'm… I'm the slave…" Ryou tried to use words that he knew would please the yami. "That I'm…. nothing." Ryou slumped into himself with the last word, utterly miserable.

"Good boy." Bakura smiled. He gave Ryou a mocking, patronizing pat on the head, smirking. "It's a crying shame we had to learn this way, though, isn't it?" Ryou was silent, and unmoving for a moment, before he nodded his head, his teeth clenched tightly. He looked down at the blood spreading across the carpet, and felt sick.

"I-I'm sorry, Bakura-sama." The words were like the final nails in Ryou's coffin. He gave up. _This is it. This is the life I'm forced to lead. I can't escape._ Bakura smirked, before standing up. He grabbed the gun, and walked over to the window. Ryou let out an odd cry as the yami threw the firearm out on to the street below with force, his face contorted into an ugly snarl.

"Good slave." Bakura chuckled. "Now get yourself cleaned up, and make me some dinner. I'm in the mood for some steak." The yami settled himself back onto the couch, one leg thrown over the side, his arms folded behind his head. "Oh, and clean up this glass, would ya?" Ryou closed his eyes, tears trickling down his face like tiny twin rivers.

"Yes, Bakura-sama," He whispered, feeling sick. _How can you just sit there and pretend nothing happened..._ There was no guilt in Bakura's eyes or body language as he watched Ryou struggle into a standing position hopping on one foot into the bathroom, where the first-aid kit was located.

"About time you learned your damn lesson," Bakura snarled, seizing the remote in a claw-like hand.

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Well... o.o;; That was odd... Chocolate-driven inspiration at 1AM...


	3. Whale

Argh. I know, OMFG I updated a day later!

Truth is, I've been writing this one for almost two weeks. I am SO sorry about my other fics... I'm working on them, honestly. I just got the idea for this in a strange dream... xD

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Damn...

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Ryou had always been a comfort eater.

For years, he had eaten whenever he was upset. If he failed a test at school he would hole up in his room and devour a whole block of chocolate by himself. Whenever his father yelled at him, or he was in trouble, Ryou would curl up on the couch with a bowl of ice-cream. Ryou ate practically half his body weight in junk food for the first couple of weeks after his mother and Amane died.

And when Bakura left him… Well, Ryou ate a _lot._

The whitenette stared at the scale, fighting back tears. A hundred and forty pounds. _How_ could he be a hundred and forty pounds? Ryou stepped back onto the bathroom tiles, and leaned against the wall. He slid down to the floor, his legs out in from of him. He wore nothing but his boxers, and a white singlet. Ryou looked down at himself, chewing on his lower lip. He couldn't stop the tears from leaking down his face, and he wiped them away. _It's my fault... I just... I can't stop eating. It's so terrible..._ Ryou drew his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. He stared down at his toes, crying softly.

Six months. Six long months since Bakura had left him. And not one day went past when Ryou didn't think about the man he loved. It just didn't seem to make sense. Bakura had simply gotten out of bed in the middle of the night, taken his things, and left. Ryou had been heartbroken, thinking it was his totally his fault. He received a tearful phone call two days later from Malik, asking if he had seen Marik, who had been missing for three days.

Ryou sniffed, standing up, and wiping at his eyes. There was no point on dwelling in the past. Bakura was gone. Gone with Marik and probably off in some island paradise. The whitenette turned, and looked in the mirror. Every time he looked at himself, he felt like punching the mirror. Next to his features, his body had always been his most attractive feature. Bakura had mentioned that, many times, he loved Ryou's body, how it was so rare to find a male so slim and attractive. That was why Ryou had tried to hard to keep himself thin. He even lost weight, exercising regularly and going on a diet. He tried so hard to keep himself in check for Bakura, because he knew the passion in their relationship was dying. The yami started going out at night, not returning until dawn. Ryou suspected Bakura was cheating on him, and tried harder to put the fire back in relationship.

That was why he left, Ryou realized two weeks later in the middle of a pizza. He tried too hard, and Bakura got sick of it all. He cried, for a long time. After that, Ryou completely let himself go, gaining almost thirty pounds in six months. His 'friends' at school were concerned, but barely noticed. He was teased by bullies at school, but even they got bored of his tired, listless behaviour. Ryou sighed, and looked down, crossing his arms around his stomach. He remembered when his stomach caved in slightly underneath his ribs, which were visible. And now… Ryou prodded his stomach with a sigh. It looked like a damn beach ball. Okay. Maybe that was little exaggeration, but it was still huge in Ryou's eyes. In reality, Ryou was just chubby and flabby around the stomach, chest, rear, and thighs. His face was almost exactly the same, apart from his cheeks, which seemed a little fuller.

Ryou turned away, and grabbed his clothes. He pulled on his pants and shirt, fluffing his hair out from under his collar. The whitenette padded into the living room, where a big slice of chocolate cake and a bag of potato chips were waiting for him. Ryou curled up on the couch, the chips in his lap as he stared at the television. His homework was in his school bag, completely abandoned. Ryou sighed after half an hour, raising his eyes up to the clock on the wall. Ten-thirty. _I might as well go to bed_… Ryou sighed, finishing off the bag of chips. He left the empty packet on the couch, and stood up. He stared out the window, rain pelting down on the city.

Ryou was closing the curtains, and going to shut off the T.V when he heard a knock on the door. The whitenette froze, blinking. _Who on earth would be visiting at this hour? It's probably the landlord_. Ryou sighed as crossed the tiny lounge and gripped the door handle. He turned it, and gently pulled the door open.

_Bakura_.

Ryou gasped, holding a hand to his mouth. _This isn't real_. The yami was sopping wet as he stood on the threshold, a battered backpack in one hand. He was slightly taller, Ryou was sure, and more muscular, clothed in black leather.

Bakura froze. _What the fuck?_ He stared at the chubby teenager. _Someone ate Ryou!_ That was his first thought as he stared at Ryou, his mouth open slightly. Ryou gripped the doorway, his knees feeling weak. Tears welled in his eyes, and the teenager bowed his head. Bakura curled his fingers tighter around his backpack, before he dropped it to the floor. He just stared at Ryou, his heart thudding. Six months of heartbreak and abandonment was thick between them. Ryou kept his head bowed, his arms wrapped protectively around his thick middle.

"I'm sorry." Bakura whispered, holding out his hands. Ryou was sobbing, tightening his arms around his waist. The yami took a step towards Ryou, touching the whitenette's shoulder. Ryou gasped, and flinched away, his hair falling over his face. Bakura dropped his arm back to his side. He stared at Ryou for a long moment, at his thick chest, and chubby arms and stomach. The whitenette looked away from Bakura, feeling the yami's scrutinizing gaze. Bakura silently pushed passed Ryou and walked into the lounge. Ryou grabbed the backpack, and shut the door, collecting himself and following Bakura to the couch.

"You're taller." Ryou whispered softly, setting the backpack down on the floor and sinking into the couch. Bakura snorted, his arms crossed. He looked over at Ryou again.

"You're…" Bakura stared at Ryou, speechless. "You're…" The word 'fat' hung in the air around them, but Bakura didn't have the heart to utter it. Ryou whimpered, curling into a ball.

"I'm sorry." The whitenette whispered softly. "But… You know how I get whenever I'm upset, Bakura. I eat. And when you just left me with no warning at all, I… I…" Ryou completely broke down, sobbing into his hands. "I couldn't take it. It was like I just shut down. H-How… How could you leave me?" Bakura sighed, placing his feet on the coffee table. "How-"

"Stop it." Bakura snarled, staring at the television screen. "Not now, Ryou. Not now. I'm cold, I'm wet, I'm hungry, and I'm fucking tired. Make me something to eat." Ryou's face was in his hands as he cried, his shoulders shaking. "Ryou!" He groaned. "Stop crying." The teenager sniffed softly. Bakura sighed, and took his feet off the table. He scooted across the couch until he was sitting beside Ryou. Bakura softly wrapped his arms around Ryou's shoulders, coaxing the whitenette to lean into his chest. Ryou buried his head in the crook of the yami's neck as he cried, his sobs muffled by his shirt. Bakura bit his lip gently, resting his chin on Ryou's head. He was amazed at how… Soft Ryou felt. Before he left, he was almost afraid to cuddle with Ryou. His bones stuck out, and he was featherlight. Not only was Bakura afraid he would break something if he held Ryou too tightly, it wasn't very comfortable having Ryou's bony ass crushed against his thigh, or his ribs against his chest. Bakura squeezed his arms around Ryou's chest, his fingertips resting over his ribcage. He couldn't feel the bones underneath a soft, fleshy layer of fat, and it felt… different. Bakura lifted Ryou up so the teenager was sitting in his lap, and tightened his hold on Ryou. It was like cuddling a teddy bear. Bakura smiled, ever so slightly.

"I-I'm really sorry." Ryou gasped, finally lifting his head. "I-I… I should have thought… I mean, I know you loved me skinny, and I did try at first, but when I realized you didn't love me anymore and weren't going to come back, I-"

"What?" Bakura gently palmed the side of Ryou's face. "Ryou… Since when did I stop loving you?" He whispered, staring into large brown eyes wet with tears. "I never did. I left… I don't even really know why I left anymore." He heaved a long sigh. "It wasn't working, Ryou. You knew that. And you were trying so hard to keep it alive, I just… I didn't know how to tell you. I thought that maybe just leaving would be best. I couldn't face it. I didn't mean to be gone so long, I just wanted to clear my head and take a time-out." Ryou looked down, tears leaking out of his eyes.

"So you went off to with Marik." Ryou muttered, setting his jaw. Bakura was very still. "Malik called me and said he was missing…" He raised his eyes. "Did you sleep with him?"

"Ryou…" Bakura whispered gently, combing his fingers through Ryou's soft white hair. The whitenette jerked his head away, looking away from Bakura.

"Did you sleep with him?" Ryou repeated, staring straight into the yami's crimson eyes. Bakura sighed, and raised his eyes heavenward.

"Look, Ryou." Bakura whispered, one hand cupping the back of Ryou's head. He linked the other arm around his waist, pressing the soft, cubby form against him. "That's all in the past. I'm really sorry about leaving you like that. I just didn't know what else to do. I'm such a fucking coward…"

"So you did sleep with him." Ryou breathed, fresh tears welling in his eyes. "W-Was I not good enough? I-I mean, I know you like it really rough in bed, and I couldn't take it very often and I cried when you did… I'm really sorry." Bakura groaned, closing his eyes.

"Why the fuck are you sorry?" He asked, staring down at Ryou. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You tried your hardest, Ryou. I'm the one that fucked things up." Ryou closed his eyed, bowing his head.

"_Look_ at me, Bakura." He moaned. "I'm a freaking whale here! I failed you… I failed you and I'm so sorry…" Bakura sighed, embracing Ryou tightly. He didn't know what to say. True, this chubby Ryou was so much more different from the slender Ryou he was in love with six months ago. And it was a big shock to see his little lover so… bloated. But he certainly wasn't obese, or even close.

"Ryou." Bakura muttered, grabbing his chin. Ryou blinked, and opened his mouth to respond. The yami took the chance, and placed his lips over Ryou's. He gently coaxed Ryou into returning the kiss, sliding his tongue past those perfect silky lips. Ryou's eyes widened, and he suppressed a low groan, unfolding his arms. Bakura grabbed Ryou's wrists, surprised that he could no longer wrap his hand around Ryou's wrist completely. Ryou gasped as Bakura wrapped his arms around the yami's neck, and tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. It was when Bakura started unbuttoning his shirt that Ryou realized what was happening. He gasped, ducking his head and breaking away from the passionate kiss.

"No." Ryou whispered, looking away from Bakura. "Y-You can't… I-I'm a freak, Bakura. Look at me. I'm so _fat_." He moaned, disentangling his arms from Bakura's neck. The yami frowned, and grabbed Ryou's wrists before he hid his face in his hands.

"Ryou." He said firmly. "Get this through your thick head. I. Don't. Care. You could weight four hundred pounds, and I wouldn't give a shit. I love you. That's all there is to it." Ryou blinked, staring at Bakura with large eyes. "Ryou, I love you just the way you are."

The whitenette started to cry again, his head bowed. Bakura sighed, and released Ryou's wrists. He leaned into the back of the couch, and watched Ryou as he sobbed. The teenager was curled up in his lap, crying weakly. Bakura sighed, a long sigh, closing his eyes.

"R-Really?" Ryou finally mumbled, his eyes wide. Bakura nodded, gently clasping one of Ryou's hands, and raising it to his lips. "Really really?"

"Really really." Bakura muttered with a long sigh. "Fuck, Ryou, you're so unstable, aren't you? You never jumped off the deep end…" Ryou's lower lip quivered, and he blinked rapidly. "Ryou… Take off your shirt." The teenager blinked. "Now."

"But, Bakura… I… I'm kinda shy about my weight… and you just got here. Don't you wanna at least give it a day or two before we jump into anything?" Ryou pleaded, grasping Bakura's wrist. The yami only gave him a look. "Okay, okay…" Ryou's hands shook as he fumbled for the buttons. Bakura watched as Ryou started to unbutton more and more of his shirt, until finally he shrugged off the leaf-colored garment, tossing it to the floor. He still wore a white singlet, however, which was not very lose, and accentuated the rolls of fat gathered from Ryou sitting down. The whitenette wrapped his arms around his stomach, and looked down.

"Come here." Bakura whispered, taking Ryou's forearms and pressing him onto the seat of the couch. He straddled the whitenette's waist, leaning over and cupping the side of Ryou's face. Ryou blinked as the yami stroked his cheek with his thumb, staring up at Bakura.

"Kura…" Ryou sighed, shaking his head. "What are doing?" Bakura smirked, running his other hand down the teenagers chest. It was so _soft,_ like a cushion. His hair had grown almost six inches in the past six months, and the long, ragged ends brushed Ryou's face and chest. Bakura grabbed the wild locks with one hand, throwing his hair behind his back.

"Just looking at you." Bakura muttered, still straddling his soft stomach. "You're so beautiful, Ryou." He sighed. "And you know what?" He leaned down further to whisper in Ryou's ear.

"What?" The teenager whispered, closing his eyes. Bakura gently licked Ryou's earlobe, making him giggle.

"You're… Really cute." Bakura lifted his head and looked into those soft brown eyes. "I mean, yeah, you're not as sexy as you used to be," Ryou looked away, hurt. "But Ryou." He murmured. "You're really…" He trailed off, staring. He didn't know how to say it. Well, he _did_, but it was kind of embarrassing, telling Ryou. But then again, it was Ryou…

"Really what?" Ryou tilted his head slightly, confused. Bakura grinned.

"Cuddly." Bakura lay down completely on top of Ryou, sliding his arms underneath Ryou's shoulders in an embrace. He nuzzled Ryou's nose, enjoying Ryou's soft, fleshy body against him.

"Really?" Ryou blinked, Bakura's eyes inches from him. Bakura nodded, and smirked, resting his forehead against the pale teenager.

"Really." Bakura murmured. "I love you, Ryou. And I'm sorry for leaving. I only wanna make it up to you, I promise." The yami sighed, and kissed Ryou gently on the lips. Ryou closed his eyes, then looked away.

"I… I'm still hurt, Bakura." Ryou whispered as Bakura released his lips. "You just left me. You could have called, or written a letter. It's not just going to go away, Bakura." He whispered.

"I know." Bakura gently placed a peck on Ryou's lips. "And I'll try, I swear. When I was gone, all I could think about was you. I felt guilty, and I wanted to be with you, but I didn't know how to face it all… It was Marik who told me to come back to you. To just swallow my pride and return. I'll give you anything you want, Ryou. I just want us to be together." Ryou blinked, and tears filled his eyes.

"Bakura…" He whispered. "You gave me the best gift I could have ever hoped for. You've accepted me for who I am. I thought that because I was so fat, that you wouldn't love me anymore… But you do. You don't care about my weight… You don't know how much that means to me." Ryou's voice broke, and he looked away. Bakura sighed, and gently nuzzled Ryou's nose again. "I-I don't want you to leave me, Kura." He whispered. "Please don't leave me again, I don't think I can take it." Ryou sighed as Bakura started to curl his leg around his.

"I wont." Bakura whispered, kissing Ryou. "I wont, I swear." Ryou closed his eyes. "We're going to start over, okay? Completely over. A whole new us." Ryou blinked, staring at Bakura.

"R-Really?" He whispered. "You… You mean it?" Bakura sighed, snuggling into Ryou. He still couldn't get over how soft he was.

"Yes." Bakura smirked. "Now shut up and kiss me." Ryou giggled, his hands around Bakura's slender waist.

He kissed him.

* * *

Angst-turned-fluff! Everyone praise it. xD Sorry the ending is so bad, but it was long enough, and argh. X.x

So, that's gun-toting Ryou, drunk Ryou, and fat Ryou. This is turning into a weird-Ryou fic collection or something. o.o; Suggestions anyone? n.n; Hehehe.

R&R!!


	4. Putting Out and Giving In

Argh. Some weird shit, I know. Hehehe.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Deal with it.

* * *

"I'm tired." Ryou groaned as the yami shuffled into the kitchen. Bakura stifled a long yawn, rubbing at his tousled hair before plonking down into one of the kitchen chairs.

"Then go back to sleep." Ryou muttered, extracting a steaming plate from the kitchen sink. Bakura winced as the teenager clanked around the cutlery, placing a hand to his forehead.

"Can you not?" He groaned weakly. "Ugh. It's too early…" Ryou rolled his eyes, scrubbing at another plate.

"It's _not_ early," He said, somewhat testily. "It's half past ten. And perhaps if _some_ people weren't up until four AM playing heavy metal at top volume, then we could _all_ get some sleep." Bakura raised an eyebrow at the whitenette, who rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"Ugh. Make me a coffee." Bakura demanded in a low moan, folding his arms on the table, and resting his forehead on his arms. Ryou gave a derisive snort.

"Make your own coffee." He snapped, yanking the plus out of the sink. He grabbed a tea towel, and started drying the plates. Bakura growled, and lifted his head.

"Don't talk to me like that." He snarled. "Or I'll-"

"You'll what?" Ryou practically threw the plate into the cabinet. "I came into the lounge four times to tell you to turn the music down, Bakura, and you never did! I'm tired, I had to get up at _seven_ to do the bloody chores, I'm exhausted, and practically every neighbor on this floor came in this morning to yell at me about the music!" Ryou slammed the cabinet door, and leaned his head against it. "I bought you some bloody headphones so we could all have some _peace_."

"Fuck the neighbors." Bakura said easily, standing up. "Who gives a crap about them? They can just go to hell." Ryou moaned.

"Bakura, please. If I get kicked out of the apartment, then Dad will kill me. He will literally slit my throat, chop me into little pieces, and seal me into one of those tombs he's excavating." Bakura only rolled his eyes. He pushed Ryou off of the cabinet door, and the whitenette stumbled, falling on his rear.

"Don't be so melodramatic." Bakura muttered, extracting a coffee cup. He shuffled over to the kitchen counter, and started to make the coffee. "He won't kill you, he loves you too much."

"Well, at least someone does." Ryou muttered as he stood up. He grabbed the tea towel, which had slipped out of his hand, and grabbed another plate, which was hot, and slippery with soap suds.

"Hey," Bakura turned, and stared at Ryou. The whitenette busied himself with drying the plate, and walking it over to the cabinet. "Ryou…" He frowned. "I love you, you know that, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Ryou sighed, picking up a mug. "I didn't mean that, it's just… Sometimes I wonder if you mean it, or you just say it to sleep with me…" Bakura blinked, and grabbed Ryou's shoulders, turning the whitenette to face him.

"Listen!" He almost yelled. Ryou yelped as he dropped the mug, which shattered on the floor. "Don't you _ever_ say that. I love you, Ryou." The whitenette blinked, before looking away.

"You don't respect me." He murmured, setting the tea towel on the kitchen counter. Bakura watched Ryou silently as he got out the dustpan, and started to sweep up the broken coffee mug.

"Fuck, Ryou." Bakura sighed, he got down on his knees, and placed his hands over Ryou's wrists. "Yes, I do. I listen to you all the time…" Ryou groaned, and yanked his hands free.

"No, you don't." Ryou stood up, and tipped the shards into the bin. "You never do. Look at last night. I was practically screaming at you to turn off that music, and you only turned it up louder. I've had to put with complaining neighbors all morning, and it wasn't even my fault! You order me around, you never listen to me, you're selfish…" Ryou wiped at his eyes.

"Ryou…" Bakura watched Ryou, his shoulders slumping. Ryou turned away, and started drying the dishes again. "Ryou, listen to me-"

"That's all I do, Bakura!" Ryou blinked back tears. "I listen to you, I do what you say…. Where's my own life, Bakura?" The whitenette twisted the damp tea towel around his fingers. "And don't you say you'll change, Bakura, because I know you. I know that you wont. I-It's so _unfair_…" Ryou turned, placing his head in his hands. Bakura's mouth fell open, staring at the back of his lover. "We might be in a relationship, Bakura, but I don't _feel _loved by you." He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, before turning around and looking at the yami. Bakura bit his lip, tilting his head to one side.

"Ryou… I love you. I really do." Bakura reached out, and touched Ryou's face. "And I'm so sorry. I thought that was what you liked… You always cooked and cleaned, even before we were together."

"So?" Ryou sniffed. "That was because it had to be done, not because I enjoyed it. I feel like I'm nothing more than your own personal slave, Bakura." Bakura groaned, running a hand through his hair.

"I…" Bakura sighed. "You've been sitting on this for a long time, haven't you?" Ryou sniffed, and nodded weakly. "Ryou… I don't understand where all of this is coming from. I never meant to manipulate you-"

"Well, you did." Ryou muttered, crossing his arms. "I-I… I don't understand, how could you think I _enjoyed_ treating you like royalty? To submitting to every single thing you commanded me to do?" Bakura sighed.

"Well… Isn't that what couples do? To give and take and all that shit?" The teenager sighed, and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Bakura. Give. You never give me anything at all! You're selfish in every room, i-it's so…" Ryou sniffed. Bakura looked down at the sparkling kitchen tiles that Ryou tried so hard to keep spotless.

"What if I said I was sorry?" Bakura asked, trying to make his face look as innocent as possible. Ryou only have a derisive snort, and rolled his eyes.

"Sure you are." He muttered. "I bet you were sorry last night when you kept the whole floor up with your loud music. Or when you just came in here demanding for a coffee, or every single damn night in bed when you only care about your own needs!" Ryou gritted his teeth, and turned on his heel.

"Ryou…"

"All I've ever wanted was for you to really love me." Ryou blinked back tears. "To treat me like a human being, like I'm more than just someone who cooks and cleans and sleeps with you." Bakura stared at Ryou. He couldn't say anything. He just couldn't. Ryou started to cry, and pushed past Bakura, running into the sanctuary of the bedroom. He didn't care. Ryou poured his heart out onto the yami, but it was all in vain. He just didn't care…

"Ryou…" Bakura's knees were weak, and he leaned against the kitchen counter. Where the fuck had that come from? It was obvious that Ryou had been storing these angry emotions inside of him for a very long time, and they were threatening to burst. Ryou's anger at Bakura's loud music that night, coupled with lack of sleep obviously pushed him over the edge. Bakura sighed.

"I have to make it up to you." He muttered, letting out a long sigh. "Damnit." Resentment flared up in his chest towards the teen. "Hell, Ryou, why did you have to start this?" He muttered, kicking one of the cabinet doors. He sighed, running a hand through his wild locks. "I don't know what to do…" He wanted to go in there, to kiss Ryou until he eventually gave in and apologized for yelling at him and forgetting his place…

_Forgetting his place? As what, your lover? Ryou was right, you don't think much of him at all. You're supposed to be equals, and yet Ryou seems to be doing all of the work. If you really loved him, you would clean up after yourself, pay him some more attention..._ Bakura sighed, staring at the rack of dishes. He bit his lip, and bent over, picking up the damp tea towel. He grabbed a side plate, and started to but the towel over the soapy stoneware.

* * *

Ryou sighed, burying his head deeper into the pillow. The small bedroom was dim, the curtains pulled to hide the sunlight. His pillow was practically soaked from his tears, and his eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. He had been crying for hours, and now the white-haired teen was exhausted from his sobbing. He pulled the blanket up to his chin, curled on his side and facing the wall.

It was the knock on the door that jolted Ryou out of his crying. He froze, and gasped. Ryou wiped hurriedly at his eyes, and sat up slightly as the door was pushed open.

"What do you want." Ryou answered tonelessly. "I- Oh!" Ryou blinked when Bakura opened the door fully, walking into the room. Bakura hefted the chunky wooden tray in both hands, which was laden with croissants, muffins, pancakes, and other delicious breakfast food. There was also a pitcher of freshly-squeezed orange juice with two crystal glasses. A beautiful blue enamel vase was in the middle, containing a single white rose.

"B-Bakura…" Ryou held his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide. "O-Oh gosh…"

"It's um, breakfast in bed…" Bakura muttered, walking across the small room to the bed. Ryou propped up the pillows so he could sit upright, smoothing the blankets out over his lap. "Even if it is one o' clock..." Bakura allowed a small smile to flit across his demonic features, and set the tray down on Ryou's lap.

"Why are there two glasses, hm?" Ryou raised an eyebrow, looking from the tray of food, to Bakura, and back again. The yami smirked, and lifted the pitcher, pouring the teen a glass.

"So I can join you." Bakura purred, pouring another glass of juice. Ryou smiled slightly, taking the glass. "Am I not allowed to spoil my lover and make him breakfast in bed?" Ryou's eyes were oddly bright.

"Of _course!"_ He gasped, starting to cry. "Oh Bakura… Did you listen to what I say?" Bakura sighed, and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Of course I did." He said softly, taking Ryou's hand. "And I thought about what you said. And you were right. I was being unfair to you. And I promise you, things really care going to change." Ryou blinked. "I was really cruel to you. And I'm sorry. I did get carried away a bit. It's just, you were so willing to do all of these things for me, and I… I guess I took the easy way out. I'm… I'm sorry, Ryou. And I swear, I'll help out more around the place. I'll cook, and clean, and all of that shit, if that's what you want." Ryou, who was in the middle of a muffin, burst into fresh tears.

"Oh, Bakura." He sighed. "I… I don't know what to say… I don't want you to help out with the dishes and stuff, I don't mind doing it all that much. I just want you to be a little nicer. Y-You don't have to make demands all of the time. Y-You… You get what I mean?" Bakura looked down, letting out a deep sigh.

"Yeah." He leaned over, and gave Ryou a quick peck on the cheek. "We're gonna make it all work out, okay?"

"Of course." Ryou smiled, taking another sip of orange juice. Bakura sighed, and leaned against the pillows.

The pair ate their 'breakfast' together.

* * *

Awh. Angst-turned-fluff! X.x -dies-


	5. Hide And Seek

I'm not as happy with this as I could be, but it's almost 1AM... not late, I know, but I need to sleep. -dead- I think I conveyed the general message... if there was one. o,o;

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

_Ryou_…

The teenager gasped, tears pooling in wide, innocent brown eyes. He jerked his head to one side, his pale, bloodstained locks sweeping over one shoulder. The hallway was silent, and cold, the only light radiating from the waxing moon. His teeth chattered, slim bony arms encircling himself in a cold embrace. The chains clanked at the movement, a lonely sound in the foreboding house. Ryou's chocolate eyes drifted down to his hands, which were cold, and bloodstained. The manacles encircled his hands, a sharp point driven completely through his palm to keep the metal bonds in place.

_Seventy-six… You better be running Ryou._

He moaned, limping down the hallway. Open doors were to his left and right, all pitch black, and all emitting the same horrible stench of death. Ryou suppressed a gag, holding a shackled hand over his mouth. His mocha-coloured eyes darted from left to right, his breathing coming out in frightened, panicked gasps.

_Seventy-seven... Seventy-eight..._

"Stop." Ryou moaned, coming to a halt. He pressed his hands to the sides of his head, shaking. The long iron chains trailed down to the floor, making a horrible clanking against the rotting floorboards. "Stop it…"

_Eighty-three, eighty-four..._

"STOP IT!" Ryou screamed, doubled over. "You skipped! Stop… Yami-sama, stop please." Every fibre in his body was paralyzed in pure fear. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest, and he ached all over.

_Eighty-five... You know how to play the game, Ryou. You've got thirteen seconds..._

"No…" Ryou moaned, straightening his back. He stared around him, whimpering softly. "Please…" He limped the last few steps until he approached the last open door way, his heart thudding painfully in his throat. He peered into the doorway, clapping a hand over his mouth.

The room was dark, and Ryou blundered blindly into the pitch-black chamber. The stench of death grew with each tentative step, until Ryou sank to his knees, choking and gagging. He forced himself to squint through the darkness, trying to make out the decomposing figure in the center of the room. Two weeks ago, Bakura had dissected the bodies himself, with Ryou chained to the wall, sobbing and bleeding. He took great pleasure in placing the vital organs in their respective jars, before covering the corpses in tar and wrapping them in linen. He couldn't be bothered to properly mummify the bodies, and as the yami sniffed, "The brats didn't deserve it… Except maybe Malik."

Ryou closed his eyes, saline water dripping down his pristine cheeks. If there were anything in his stomach, Ryou would have vomited. Instead, the teenager curled into a small ball, feeling totally hopeless.

_Ninety..._

The whitenette jerked his head up, staring around the room. Slowly, his vision started to become more attuned to the darkness. He noticed the stacks of boxes in the corner and started to crawl.

_Ninety-two..._

Ryou flung himself behind the boxes, gasping in fear. He curled into a tiny ball, holding his hands over his head.

Hell.

That's what it had been. A total hell. It started innocently enough… A voice in his head, soothing, guiding, like a parent to him. Then… it started changing. It grew stronger, harsher, heaping orders and commands on him. And then it took over…

_Ninety-four..._

Ryou had been a slave for a long time. He accepted that his purpose was only to serve his master, the voice in his head, full of brash demands. And then…

Ryou remembered the pain. Of course he did, it was less than three weeks ago. It felt like his body was being ripped in two… Ryou remembered staring into those blood-coloured eyes for the very first time, those hateful, menacing orbs edged in black, framed by wild white hair.

_He stole my reflection..._ Ryou held two hands over his mouth, trying force back the horrible smell of one of his friends rotting, just feet beside him. Bakura had done it. He won. He defeated his greatest rival, he claimed all of the sennen items. And although the shadow only covered half of Japan, it was growing.

And now Bakura was having his fun.

_Ninety-nine... One hundred. Ready or not Ryou, here I come..._

"No." Ryou whispered, shaking his head. He stared down at his chains, long iron ropes that snaked across the dusty, bloodstained floorboards. The stench of death corroded the ancient mansion. It seemed to wrap around Ryou, choking him. "No… Please…"

He could hear his footsteps. Ryou's eyes widened, and he froze, tears pushing at his eyes. _No... No, please, Yami-sama..._

"Ryou…" Bakura called out mockingly, his hands resting on his hips. There were seven rooms on the second floor, one each of Ryou's friends. "Ryou… I can smell your fear, you know…" He smirked, his boots clacking against the rotting floorboards. Ryou whimpered, holding his head in his hands, curling into a ball. Bakura raised a snowy eyebrow, pausing at the doorway of the last room in the hall. He could see clearly in the dark, and his eyes locked with the wrapped figure on the middle of the floor. Malik. "Oh, come on." The yami snorted in disgust. "Give over, Ryou, I know you're hiding behind the boxes in the corner."

Ryou audibly gasped. He shook his head, crying. Bakura rolled his eyes, marching across the floorboards, which creaked ominously under his weight. He stopped at the stack of boxes, and easily walked around them, staring down in contempt at the teenager, who was curled into a ball, shaking and crying.

"Pathetic." Bakura sneered, kicking Ryou in the side. The whitenette whimpered, but didn't more. "Give me one reason why I should let you live, Ryou." He shook his head, scowling. "I've given you three weeks. It's much longer than you deserve. Why should I let you live any more?" Ryou shook his head, crying. "Huh?"

"Please…" Ryou whispered. "P-Please… Master…" He was sobbing, his hands over his face. They hurt…

"Your pleas will get you nowhere." Bakura snarled. "If you think you can arouse any pity in me, Ryou, you're sadly mistaken." He crouched down so he was eye level with the shaking teenager.

"Please…" Ryou gasped, hyperventilating. "I-I… Always obeyed… Please." He moaned, holding his hands over his face.

"Why should I keep you?" Bakura raised an eyebrow. "You're no fun, Ryou. This is your idea of a game? I found you in fifteen seconds flat. Why should I keep you around? A whiny, clingy slave? The world only needs one ruler."

"Don't wanna rule." Ryou whispered, doubled over, unwittingly, he was bowing at his masters' feet. "Don't wanna die… Don't kill me." Bakura snorted.

"Get up." He snarled. Standing on his feet again, looking down on Ryou. "On your feet. Now." Squeaking, Ryou did as he was ordered, struggling weakly to his feet. He wavered slightly, but managed to stand erect, keeping his gaze downcast. "Give me your arms." Shaking, Ryou stretched out his hands, the chains rattling. Bakura groped around his neck, before pulling out the old iron key from its slim chain. The yami slid the key easily into the lock, and the thick band around Ryou's knuckles slid free. Both of the white-haired males stared at the thick pike driven through Ryou's palm. Ryou gritted his teeth as Bakura yanked it down, and out of the teenagers' hand. It clattered to the floor, and Ryou shuddered. Bakura repeated the motion with the second cuff, and then took a step back. Ryou wobbled slightly, but managed to keep his feet planted on the ground. He felt sick…

"Master…" Ryou raised his eyes, wide and imploring, to stare at Bakura. "P-Please…" Bakura snarled, and easily struck Ryou across the face. Ryou gasped, and raised a hand to his burning cheek.

"Don't speak out of turn." Bakura growled. He stared at Ryou, who was gently rocking himself on the balls of his feet, crying and in pain.

It was mercy, actually, that made Bakura unsheathe his knife. Ryou's eyed widened in shock, and he tried to take a step back, but it was too late. Bakura easily grabbed Ryou's shoulder, slicing a simple line across his throat. He stood back, watching Ryou grasp uselessly at his throat as blood trickled through his fingers.

It was all over in a few moments. Ryou struggled on the floor, sinking to his knees, his hands over his throat in a desperate attempt to stop the flor of blood that gushed from his slashed artery. Ryou looked up at Bakura, and gave one last, shuddering gasp, before slumping into the rotting, bloodstained floorboards, still. Bakura returned the knife to his belt, and sighed, staring down at the dead figure slumped onto the floor. He only looked for a moment, before bending down, and grasping the sadistic manacles in one hand. He swung them over his shoulder, turned away. He would deal with the body later.

Ryou didn't deserve to die in chains.

* * *

Ugh... R&R? Hehehehehe.


	6. The Final Test

Ugh. This has been HOUNDING me for AGES. I hate it so much... But I sent it to a couple of people, and they likes it so -shrugs-

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"Let me out."

Ryou sat in the middle of the tiny round floor, staring up at the sky. It was dark, and Ryou had no idea about what time it was. Not that he hardly cared.

"Please…" He whispered, closing his eyes and bowing his head. He tried to keep his back as straight as he could. The device on his back was almost like a metal vertebrae, stretching from his tailbone to the nape of his neck. It was stitched in place, with at least twenty metal hooks on each side piercing his skin. The thick iron chain hung like a tail, fixed to a ring in the stone wall. "Kura." Ryou whimpered, rubbing his shivering arms. The place was so _dismal._ The whitenette suspected that it was a well- It was a small floor, only a few feet wide, and at least ten stories high. It had to be a well. And he was stuck at the bottom. There was nothing in here apart from that, and a ladder, a series of metal rungs sunken into the concrete, rising to the top.

"Stop _testing_ me!" Ryou's voice was high pitched, and panicked. "Kura… Why are you doing this? Why are you playing these games?" He looked up, tears in his eyes. "Please…" The teenager curled his hands into fists. "I-I'm s-so c-c-cold…" He shivered.

_Really?_

Ryou froze as the words seemed to be whispered in his ear, but Ryou knew it was all in his head.

_It's about to get much colder._

The words were purred, almost, in that smug, seductive tone he was so good at. Ryou's breath stilled in his throat, warm chocolate eyes darting from side to side. It was only a second after the words were whispered in his head when Ryou heard the thump. It sounded like the dull beat of a drum, very, very deep in the earth.

"Oh no." He whispered. "Oh no. Oh no…" Ryou started to cry, whimpering in fear and pain. "Please, Bakura… Whatever game, whatever test this is., you're won. Please… I-I wanna go home…" He drew his legs up to his chest, circling his arms around his bony knees. The teenager stared down at the torn, stained jeans, the only clothing he had on his slender frame.

_What if I don't want to win?_

Ryou moaned softly as he heard the words, fighting back tears, but failing. He gently rocked himself back and forth on the ground, holding his hands over his ears.

"Stop…" Ryou whispered. "Please, just stop…" He heard a cold laughter in his head, followed by four malicious, mocking words.

_Look at the ground._

Ryou blinked, and dared to raise his head. His wet eyes surveyed the dirt ground for a moment, confused. An odd sort of rushing noise started to fill the air…

Water.

Ryou's heart stopped. There was a pipe, just a few inches wide, set into the concrete directly above the ground. Water was flowing freely into the empty well, thick and brown. The whitenette screamed and stood up, gasping in pain from his back.

"No…" He moaned. "No, Bakura, please… I don't wanna die, you can't do this…." He pressed himself against the slimy wall, sobbing. "Please…"

_You don't have to drown, Ryou. Break your chains._

Ryou looked down to the thick iron chain that clanked across the floor. It was clearly ancient, and extremely heavy. The ring it was set into looked just as solid.

"I can't…" Ryou moaned. "Kura, please… I-I can't break the chain, the ring… It's so thick…" Water began creeping across the dust, brushing Ryou's toes. The teenager jumped at the icy waters, and started to sniff. "Please…"

_Then don't break the ring._

Ryou blinked, confused. But the ring was the only thing connecting the chain…

_The hooks, you fucking idiot! _

Ryou froze. Instinctively, one hand went up to his back. He traced the metal 'spine', and started to shake.

"No." Ryou gasped. "No. Bakura… You can't be serious. I-I can't… I can't take them out, they would hurt so much…" The whitenette looked down at the water, which swilled around his bare feet. "_NO!_" Ryou started turned around, and started smashing his fists against the stone wall, sobbing. "_Bakura you can't do this!_" His voice echoed around the well in despair. Ryou sank to his knees, holding his hands over his face. His shoulders shook with sobs, and he shuddered in the painfully cold water.

_But you're worst fear is to drown_…

"Kura…" He whispered pitifully. "Please… Don't make me do this. _Please_." He heard more mocking laughter in his head, and the water was almost at the top of his jeans. Ryou let out a low moan, before shakily getting to his feet. He traced his fingers over the bottom part of the second spine, and found the first hook to the right of his tailbone. Forcing his shaking hands to steady, the teenager took a deep breath, and seized the end of the cruel hook in his deft, bony fingers. Sobbing in pain, and unable to see what he was doing, Ryou managed to ease the hook back through the puncture wounds, barely tearing the skin at all. He let out a long sigh, closing his eyes. The water churned at his shins.

_Good job, Ryou. One down, thirty-nine to go_.

"B-But… Th-The waters coming up so fast… I-I can't ease them all out in time." Ryou panicked, starting to hyperventilate. He was petrified of the sick device on his back that he had to remove, but he was more terrified of drowning.

_Then be less careful. _

Ryou's eyes widened, and his chin started to tremble. He bit on his lip hard, and grabbed the hook above the one he's just tugged out, and yanked.

The whitenette arched his back, and screamed as his soft skin tore. He shook his head, sobbing as the water started lapping at his knees.

"I-I can't…" He whispered. "Please, 'Kura… It just hurts too much…"

_Too bad._

Ryou moaned, grabbing the third hook. His eyes were clenched tight, and be bit on his lip hard. He still screamed when he ripped out the hook however, but didn't stop, his shaking fingers taking the fourth hook. The teenager screamed and cried, but didn't stop, feeling the water, so icy hold it _burned_, slowly creep up his numbing legs.

"Please…" He whispered. Ryou yelped as another tore, and he felt fresh blood well up on his back, and start to trickle down. "P-Please…" He moaned, grabbing yet another hook. Inwardly, Ryou was astonished at himself. He was tearing out one hook every couple of seconds, and by the time he'd finished the right side, the 'spine' hanging off his back and putting painfully heavy pressure on the hooks, the water was at his waist.

"Oh no." Ryou stared at the thick brown water, which was clouded with crimson where it rushed at his back. "O-Oh no…" Without putting it off any longer, Ryou started to rip out the hooks on the left side, crying out every time more of his skin tore from the sharp hooks, blood glistening on the stainless steel tips. It _hurt_, it hurt like nothing else as the hooks ripped through soft, flawless skin, but Ryou didn't stop, feeling as though his back were on fire. He was halfway through the hooks on the left hand side when he felt the water lapping at his chest.

"NO!" Ryou screamed, looking up at the top of the well. "No, Kura, give me more time!" He moaned, sliding his hands into the water in order to get at the hooks. It was so cold in the there… Ryou's hands slowly started to stiffen, and it was getting harder to grasp the hooks and tug at them. "Kura, please…" He whispered, sobbing as the water at his armpits. He still had at least seven hooks left in his skin. _"NO!_" He would have stamped his feet, were they not submerged in the water.

_Rip them all out at once._

There was a sick, twisted smirk on Bakura's face when the words were boomed in his mind, Ryou was sure. The thought of all the blood and pain that would result from tearing out those hooks made Ryou want to throw up.

"I-I can't…" He moaned. The water slid over his shoulders. Ryou moaned, completely freezing from the neck down. "No…" Tears slid down Ryou's cheeks as he cried. He stared at the water as it rose, little by little, stained scarlet from his blood. "No…" The water lapped at his chin…

Manipulating his arms behind his back, Ryou grabbed the tip of the 'spine', the part at the nape of his neck, and summoned up the last ounce of strength in his weak, drained body. Ryou arched his neck and screamed as he tore the fake vertebrae completely off, his back burning as more skin than ever tore. It literally hung off his back in shreds, the hooks being dragged down as they were yanked out of Ryou's skin. Water rushed into his mouth, and Ryou coughed, standing on his top toes. He managed to suck in one large lungful of cold air before the water covered his lips. Ryou held his breath as he weakly paddled across the well, extending a shaking, pale arm, and grabbing one of the metal rungs. He dragged his shaking frame, dripping with blood and water, out of the flood with a low moan. Ryou dug his toes into the rung, curling his fingers into the metal bar.

"I-I did it." Ryou gasped, leaning his forehead into another rung in the ladder, letting a long, long sigh. The water lapped at his shoulders again, threatening to drag the whitenette under. "No…" He moaned, banging his head against the ladder. "I have to climb…" He looked up to the top of the well, sobbing.

Hand, over hand, foot over foot, Ryou started to climb. His shredded back was in total agony, and the teenager was exhausted, but he was bloody _determined _to get to the top. Partly so he could survive, and partly so he could ask Bakura why the _hell_ he did this to him. The water still rushed and churned below him, but was no longer in any danger of drowning…

Unless he fell off.

Ryou squeaked as his wet hands slipped slightly on the ladder, and clung tighter to the bars of metal as he climbed. He didn't dare to look down, and he didn't want to look up at the top of the well- instead, Ryou focused his gaze on directly in front of him, watching his slim pale hands grasp each bar in his slow, struggling climb. Ryou's eyes were half-lidded, his breath coming out in short gasps. It was a long climb, draining what little energy had left right out of him. It got to the point where Ryou was practically dragging himself up the ladder, panting softly in exertion. He was so tired, and so so _cold_…

Ryou started to cry when he looked up, and saw the top of the well just above his cotton-coloured head. It was tears of both pain and relief as he managed to climb up to the edge of the well, gipping it and leaning over, swinging his legs over the side. Ryou tumbled down to the ground with a soft yelp, crying out in pain when his back was moved. He was slumped into the grass, sobbing weakly. Ryou lay in the dirt for around fifteen minutes, before he found the strength to eventually sit up. He froze, chocolate eyes widening at the sight before him. Bakura stood a few feet away from him, his arms at his side, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Wh-Why?" Ryou managed to whisper brokenly, wrapping his arms around his shivering form. Bakura was silent and unmoving, a pillar of stone. "_Why?"_ He whispered again, sobbing. The yami still said nothing as he took a step towards Ryou. The well overflowed, water gushing over the edges, and spreading across the ground.

"You…" Bakura's voice was rough, and harsh. "You're alive." His voice sounded unbelieving. Ryou blinked, before looking up into Bakura's eyes, and his own welled over with fresh tears.

"You… You tried to kill me." Ryou's voice was broken, his speech disjointed. "_Why?"_ Bakura only took another step towards Ryou. "Why?" He repeated again, sobbing in pain from his bleeding back.

What was Bakura supposed to say? There was no easy answer to that- Hell, Bakura wasn't sure there was an answer to that at all. Part of him -a large part- Actually didn't want Ryou to live. That was why he drugged Ryou, and dragged him out here, setting him up in this trap. If Ryou died, it wouldn't be his fault… Directly. And if he lived…

Bakura felt like he couldn't breathe. It was like there was a balloon lodged in his throat. Ryou wanted to live so badly, he willingly ripped his own back to shreds. Bakura didn't know what to do.

He'd been wanting to kill Ryou for a long time.

He just couldn't handle the way that Ryou was making him feel. Those kisses, those soft, tender touches and smiles Ryou gave him… It made Bakura feel sick. He couldn't take it. The way Bakura felt about Ryou was totally alien to him. It felt like a disease. Bakura thought that killing Ryou would get rid of the feelings inside of him…

"Why?" Ryou repeated again, whimpering softly. Bakura stared at Ryou's back, which was torn and bleeding. The yami didn't answer. Instead, he leaned down, cruelly grabbing a thick handful of soft white hair._ No!_ His blood boiled. _Ryou was supposed to die and he is **going** to fucking **die**._ Ryou cried out as he was forced roughly up, and Bakura all but dragged him over to the well. The whitenette yelped, and struggled madly, but to no avail.

"No!" Ryou screamed as Bakura forced him onto his knees. The teenager barely had time to take a desperate gasp of air before Bakura forced his head underwater, one palm firmly pressed against the back of his head, forcing him to stay under. Bakura watched Ryou as he struggled madly under the water, a strange sensation in his chest. Ryou's heart was thudding in his chest as he struggled, trying desperately to wrench himself free from Bakura's sadistic grasp.

Bakura smirked as he watched Ryou thrash about in the water, but his smile faded when a slim pale hand emerged from the churning water. He lifted one hand from Ryou's head to force it back down, but he wasn't quick enough. Ryou's hand groped wildly around in the air, before it came into contact with Bakura's arm. The whitenette, as weak as he was, managed to clench onto Bakura's bare forearm, and dug his nails in hard, Ryou dragged his arm down, successfully drawing blood. Bakura gasped, and jerked his hand back- The hand that was holding Ryou's head in the water. The pressure gone, the teenager lifted his head from the water with a gasp, filling his lungs with sweet, cool air as quick as he could. Bakura growled, and made to dunk Ryou back under the water, but before he could, the whitenette jerked away, onto the grass. He crawled a few feet, before slumping onto the grass, coughing and sobbing.

Bakura hands were clenched into fists at his sides, and he unclenched them. The yami took a step towards Ryou, and kicked him in the side with his steel-capped boots. Hard.

"Fuck you." Bakura seethed, his voice low and deadly. "_Fuck_ you!" He screamed, kicking Ryou again. The teenager screamed, pressing his face into the grass. "Why the fuck wont you _die?"_ Ryou sobbed as Bakura pressed a foot onto his back, applying heavy pressure.

"Kura, please!" He yelped, trying to flail with his arms, which were as weak, and ineffectual as straw.

"Don't call me that!" Bakura roared, and ground his heel into Ryou's left shoulder blade, the part where his skin was so torn, it hung in shreds. The whitenette screamed, arching his back and sobbing in pain. "You understand?" Ryou sobbed brokenly in agony, not answering the yami. "Hey!" Bakura removed his heel from Ryou's back, and forcefully rolled him over with his toe. Ryou cried out as he lay on his back, and weakly propped himself up on his elbows. He looked up at Bakura, fresh tears welling in chocolate brown eyes.

"Yes!" He sobbed, turning his head to one side. Bakura looked down at Ryou, who shone in the moonlight. His long silky hair, sodden with water, tumbled over his shoulders and down his back, and his skin, smooth and white, was stained, however, in places with blood.

"Get on your knees." Bakura hissed angrily, clenching and unclenching his hands. "Get on your fucking knees and _beg_ for life like the pathetic slave I know you are." Ryou moaned, leaning forward and placing his palms in the grass. Bakura watched coldly as Ryou forced himself onto his knees, gasping and sobbing as his black bled.

"Please…" Ryou begged, raising his eyes up to Bakura. His chocolate orbs were wide in fright, shining with tears. Ryou raised his weak, trembling arms, shuffling forward on his knees. Bakura blinked, not understanding. "Please." Ryou mumbled again. He wrapped his arms around the top of Bakura's thighs, pressing his face into the yami's jeans. "_Please_." He whispered, his voice muffled by the black denim. Bakura glared down at the slim figure hugging his knees. Ryou was obviously trying to look as pitiful as he could as he clung to Bakura, shaking and sobbing. "I love you, Kura…" He moaned hoarsely, clutching the yami's jeans. Bakura only looked down in disgust at the teenager who dared to cling to his clothes like a limpet. "Why are you doing this to me? What did I do…" Ryou sniffed, nuzzling the yami gently. Bakura's belt buckle scratched his cheek, but the whitenette didn't notice, taking long, shuddering gasps. His back hurt so _much_…

"Listen." Bakura spat. He grabbed Ryou's long locks in one hand, and pulled down hard. Ryou squeaked as his head was forced back, and Ryou was obliged to look the yami in the eye. "Give me _one_ reason." Bakura reached into his pocket, withdrawing a sharp switchblade. Ryou's eyes swelled in fear, but he didn't move. "Why I shouldn't slit your throat." The teenager swallowed as Bakura unclasped the knife, placing it against his smooth, creamy neck.

"I love you." Ryou croaked, shaking with tears. He blinked, and fresh tear tracks slid down his pale, pristine cheeks. Bakura merely raised an eyebrow, and released his hold on Ryou's hair, and lowered the knife from Ryou's throat. The teenager buried his head in Bakura's jeans again, seeking cold comfort from the heartless yami.

"Do you?" Bakura muttered. He grabbed Ryou's hair again, at the roots this time, and wound the long snowy locks around his clawlike hand. Ryou whimpered, and his breath froze in his throat as he felt the sharp edge of the knife on his back.

"No." Ryou gasped. He felt the knife dig in harder, and suppressed tears. It turned into a scream as Bakura dragged the knife across the already torn skin of his left shoulder blade. The yami severed the strips of skin completely from Ryou's back, exposing the bloodied mess of Ryou's back muscles and tendons. The teenager couldn't hear the sickening _plop_ of his skin landing on the ground, moist and squishy from the well-water, and neither did Bakura. But he saw it. Ryou's screams, which were muffled by Bakura's pants, finally quieted down, and Ryou wrapped his arms even tighter around the yami's thighs, sobbing.

"Still love me?" Bakura hissed, trailing his fingers through the skinned patch of his back. Ryou screamed again, his face streaked with tears. He nodded, however, against Bakura's jeans. Bakura growled, and pulled back on Ryou's hair, exposing that pretty, angelic face with his flawless white skin…

Not for long.

There was a sadistic smirk on Bakura's face as he pressed the blade on Ryou's eyebrow. In reflex, the teenager closed his eyes tightly, whimpering pathetically as the blade was dragged down the side of his face. Bakura's smile grew as he lowered the knife from Ryou's face. The whitenette was silent, but he still cried, his shoulders shaking and eyes still clenched shut. The bridge of Bakura's nose wrinkled in a snarl, and he slashed Ryou's cheek twice, doubling over the scar. _Heh_. It wasn't intentional at first, but now that you look at it…

"What about now?" Bakura hissed, bending down to look Ryou in the eye. The whitenette moaned, and nodded weakly, blood trickling into his eye. "Fuck!" The yami kicked Ryou hard in the stomach. He screamed, falling back from the force of the blow, and slumping on the ground.

"Die, Ryou." Bakura hissed, still bending over him. "Just. Fucking. _Die!"_ He kicked Ryou with each word, the whitenette emitting a soft howl of pain each time he was struck.

"Why?" Ryou whimpered gently, holding one hand over the slashes on his face. He turned to look up at Bakura, who looked murderous.

"I don't need a reason!" He roared. Ryou gasped as Bakura flung himself on the ground, crouching over the light on all fours. The knife hovered just a few inches over Ryou's heart. "I can do what I like with you! Because you are a slave! You are _my_ slave, and therefore, I own you!" The hand that held the knife shook, and Bakura's eyes flashed in anger. "That means I have the right to kill you!"

"Why?" Ryou pleaded, shaking. "Please… I don't wanna die, Bakura, I love you-"

"Say that again." Bakura hissed, breaking into Ryou's sentence. He grabbed Ryou's chin with a clawlike hand. "And I will cut your fucking tongue out." Ryou's eyes were wide, but he nodded. He was crying softly, blood staining his silky white locks. Bakura leaned back a little, and raised the knife over his head. Ryou cried harder, shaking his head. The knife hovered in midair, trembling. Bakura pressed Ryou into the grass, brandishing the knife. Ryou trembled, closing his eyes. He waited for the knife to sink into his chest, waited to be stabbed, utterly helpless.

But it never came. Ryou finally opened his eyes, to find Bakura still holding the knife over his head. The yami's eyes were wide, his fingers wrapped around the knife shaking. Bakura snarled, and finally brought the knife down. Ryou whimpered, and turned his face away, waiting for the pain, the blood.

But again, it never came. Ryou's eyes opened tentatively, and then widened at the knife, wedged deeply in the grass inches from his head. He blinked, and looked up at Bakura. The yami sat up, still staring at Ryou's tear-filled eyes. Bakura stood up, and backed away from Ryou, his eyes locked on the teenager.

He couldn't do it.

Bakura turned around, holding his hands over his head. He screwed up his eyes shut tightly, letting out a long, low moan. Ryou's eyes were wide as he weakly pushed himself into a sitting position, biting on his lower lip. His heart thudded in his chest as he watched Bakura, his black flaming with pain.

"Fuck you." Bakura muttered. He spun around in his heel, and towered over Ryou, glaring at the teenager. "_Fuck you!"_ he screamed, his hands clenched into fists. Ryou watched as Bakura grabbed handfuls of his hair, and screamed.

"Bakura…" Ryou whispered, trembling. He drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs.

"Why the fuck can't I _kill_ you!" Bakura screamed. "_Why?"_ Ryou whimpered, and pressed his chin on his knees. It was so easy, when Bakura set up the trap for Ryou, or when he held his hands over Ryou's head, drowning him. But he couldn't stab him to death.

"I don't _want_ you to kill me…" Ryou whispered softly, looking up to Bakura with wide brown eyes. "I-I can go away… Never see you again." Bakura shook his head, growling.

"That's not good enough!" Bakura screamed. "I want you to _die_!" Ryou shook his head, and moaned.

"No." He whispered. Ryou lowered his eyes, staring at the skin on the ground. _His_ skin. Ugh. The teenager shuddered, bowing his head. "Please…"

"Shut. _Up._" Bakura hissed, leering over Ryou. The teenager whimpered, curling into a tight ball for protection. Bakura sneered at the pitiful sight, and grabbed Ryou's chin. He forced the whitenette to look him in the eye, and snarled. Ryou closed his wide chocolate orbs, and looked away.

"I don't wanna die." Ryou whimpered pathetically. The yami growled, and hit Ryou hard across the face. The force of the blow, on Ryou's slashed cheek, made him cry out, turning his head to one side. "Stop this." Ryou whispered softly. "Don't do this, please… C-Can we just go home? I… I'm starting to get really dizzy…" The yami growled, shoving Ryou into the grass, which was so thick and heavy with water, it achieved the consistency of mud. Ryou yelped, and Bakura straddled his waist, wrapping his hands around the teenagers slim little neck.

"We're not going home." Bakura hissed, as Ryou started crying again, struggling weakly. He tightened his fingers a little, but not enough to cut off Ryou's air supply. The yami stared into those wide, beautiful eyes, which were glistening with tears.

"Please…" Ryou whispered. "I-I know I make you angry, Bakura. I-I know I upset you… But have I done anything to deserve death?" His chin trembled as he looked the yami in the eye. Bakura growled, his nose wrinkling in a snarl.

"You're alive." Bakura hissed. "You're nothing but a thorn in my side, Ryou. I hate you. _I hate you!"_ Ryou whimpered softly, shaking his head.

"How?" Ryou whispered. "I-I thought you… That night…"

"It was a mistake!" Bakura screamed. "That night was a mistake! I didn't mean any of it! Because I slept with you, it doesn't mean I love you!" Ryou's eyes welled with fresh tears.

"I love you…" Ryou whispered. "Kura-"

"_Stop!"_ Bakura screamed angrily. Ryou shook his head, crying. He had tried to reason with Bakura, but it looked as though it were failing.

"How would you feel?" Ryou tried his hardest to keep his voice steady. "If you killed me tonight… How would you feel, Bakura?"

"I would be _happy_." Bakura snarled. "Because you would be _dead_." He tightened his hands around Ryou's neck. The teenager whimpered, feeling his Adams apple crushing into his windpipe.

"Y-You would be happy tonight." Ryou gasped. "But… What about when the reality sinks in? When you realize that I'm gone. I-I know you Bakura, I know how you think. You c-can't kill me. Because you'll never admit it to yourself, but you need me –you want me- in your life." Ryou tried to look at Bakura in the eye. "You've tried to kill me how many times now? But you wont. Because you know it's true. You know that little part, so deep down inside you that you don't know it's there… It's stopping you."

"Shut up." Bakura hissed, leaning forward even more. His nose was less than six inches away from Ryou. "You _don't know anything!"_ He screamed, glaring into wide brown eyes. The teenager shivered in the cold night air, feeling sick. There was so much blood seeping from his back…

"Bakura…" Ryou whispered. "You'll regret it so much later. You know yourself. Why else did you go through all of that effort to throw me down that well and chain me up? Because you couldn't do it. You wanted to test me…"

"Shut up!" Bakura yelled. "Shut. The Fuck. _Up!"_ Ryou closed his eyes, and flinched away. "Stop thinking you know me, Ryou. Just stop it."

"Let me go, Bakura." Ryou whispered. "Come on. I'm losing a lot of blood, Bakura, I need to get to a hospital-" His words were cut off as the yami tightened his hands around his slim neck.

"You're not going anywhere." He hissed. There was a sadistic smirk on Bakura's face as he stared into wide brown eyes, shining with tears, and wide with fear. "You're not going to see the dawn, Ryou. And if you think you can sweet-talk your way out of death, then you are _so_ wrong." He couldn't strangle Ryou to death- Instead, he stood up. Ryou clutched at his throat, choking and gasping for air. He weakly looked up at Bakura, but before he could move, the yami drew back his foot, and kicked Ryou. Right in the head, with his steel-capped boots.

Ryou was out cold in a heartbeat. His head lolled to one side, and he was spread out across the grass, his arms and legs spread. Bakura watched the soft rise and fall of Ryou's chest, listened as air passed through the whitenette's parted lips. No doubt he would bleed to death.

Bakura was halfway down the hill before he turned back. He stared at the limp figure of the man he loved, very, very deep down, who was knocked out, slowly, agonizingly bleeding to death. The grass was soft, and squelchy under his feet. Ryou was still alive. For now. Bakura didn't outright kill him… The teenager's blood was not on his hands. Bakura sought a little comfort from that. He turned back, and ran down the last of the hill, quickly disappearing into the dark shadows of the night.

Perhaps it was a good thing that he didn't stay longer. If he had, then he would have seen the slim, frail teenager slumped in the grass moan gently, and open his eyes.

* * *

That was SO EFFING LONG! I am so sorry if you had to sit through that. -dies-

R&R?


	7. What I've Done

Ehehehe... There are probably typos in here, but I don't care. I'm pissy right now, Because Mum's stupid work wouldn't let her steal MS office for me to download, so I have to wait until pay day to get it. Which means I only have Wordpad on this computer, and I'm not used to the kyes quite right yet. So right now, I'm only writing crappy oneshots, sorry. -sigh-

LOL I wonder what this is inspired by... It's definitely been a while since those guys gave me plotbunnies XD

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Deal with it.

* * *

"Hello Ryou."

"H-Hello Namika."

"Is there anything you wanted to talk about specially today?" The psychiatrist looked over her glasses at the whitenette. Ryou bit his lip as he shook his head, sitting back a little further on the couch. He drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his kneecap. "Are you sure? Has anything happened in the past week that you want to talk about?"

"N-No." Ryou murmured gently, after a moment's hesitation. "I-I'm fine thank you. Maybe we should pick up where we left off."

"Okay." Namika said gently, making a note on her clipboard. "Now... You were telling me about why you did it last session before you had to leave. I think we should start there."

"Do I have to?" Ryou asked gently, his voice shaking. I-I would rather not..."

"Ryou, please. You have to tell us why you did it." Ryou fought back tears as he looked down at the floor. "Do you want to tell me?"

"I-It hurts to." Ryou whispered. "I-I... I don't wanna..." Namika bit her lip at the childish tone.

"You have to tell me what is going on if you want me to help." She said. "And Ryou, you need help."

"N-No..." Ryou whispered, shaking his head. "I-I can't. I just want to forget-"

"You killed a teenage boy and put another one in a coma." Namika cut over the whitenette firmly, frowning slightly. "You can't forget that. It's been over two months, Ryou. The doctors are starting to think that you can't be cured."

"I'm not sick." Ryou breathed, crying. "I wanna go home..." Namika sighed deeply, raising her eyes heavenward for a moment.

"Just tell my why you hurt them, Ryou."

"No."

"Please, just tell me-"

"NO!" The psychiatrist was taken aback by the sudden tone, shying away. "No... I-I don't wanna talk." Ryou repeated, wrapping his arms around his slim frame. "Please-"

"Ryou, do you _want_ to be locked in here for the rest of your life?" Ryou shook his head.

"No..."

"Then why won't you tell me? You can trust me, Ryou. There's nothing worse that they can do for you. They know you did it. If you can justiify what you did, then maybe you won't have to stay in here for so long." Ryou closed his eyes.

"I... I..."

"Please."

"I don't want to think about either of them." Ryou blurted out, running his hands through his hair. "I-I don't I don't I don't."

"What did they do to hurt you, Ryou?" Namaki said gently. "What did Malik and Bakura do to make you-"

"Stop it!" Ryou rubbed at his eyes, shaking his head wildly. "Don't talk about them! Don't even mention their names!"

"They did hurt you." The doctor sighed. "What did they do? Apparently policemen did notice extensive cuts and abraisons all over you... Did they do that? Please Ryou, I need to know."

"I-It..." Ryou was shaking. He didn't want to talk about it... He didn't. But deep down, he knew he had to explain everything if he wanted to clear his name. "B-Bakura... H-He always... I-I tried to fight him off but it was so hard... He's so strong..."

"So he did do this." Namaki whispered. "He abused you. And one day, you cracked and fought back... Am I right?" Ryou closed his eyes, pressing his lips together. He really, _really_ didn't want this. But he had to, if he wanted to clear his name, right?

"I-It was an accident. H-He was hurting me really badly... And getting c-creative about it. I... I didn't mean to hurt Malik, I didn't. B-But he was there too and he was watching Bakura hurt me a-and he wasn't doing a thing about it. He... He didn't help me... He didn't tell Bakura to stop or anything..." Ryou lifted his tearstreaked face up to the woman. "I-It was an accident. It was. I never ever meant to hurt either of them. I-I just snapped. Bakura was hitting me really hard and screaming at me and the knife block was just there... I didn't know what else to do. I just wanted it to stop... I wanted him to stop..."

"And Malik?" The psychiatrist pressed, scribbling frantically on her little pad. "What did he do? Why did you hurt him?"

"I..." Ryou sniffed, and wiped at his eyes and nose. "He was really freaked out. He ran over to Bakura and started shaking him and screaming that he was dead, over and over... I just stood there with the knife... A-And then Malik got really angry with me and slapped me and saying such horrible things..."

"Why did he do that?" The psychiatrist frowned. "He knew what Bakura was doing to you, obviously." Ryou only looked down at the floor.

"Why do you think?" He whispered. "He and Bakura were lovers. That was why he let Bakura hurt me. Why he never intervened, wh-why he got so angry wh-when I k-killed Bakura..." Ryou buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

"Ryou..."

"I never meant to hurt anyone." Ryou sobbed. "I-I couldn't hurt anyone. I just couldn't take the abuse anymore. I-I know I've done something really really wrong and I want to take it all back, I do. I regret everything."

"Ryou..."

"I know I'm a horrible person. I-I know I did something really wrong... But I'm not sick." Ryou whispered. "He just pushed me and pushed me and he went too far..."

"Oh Christ..."

"I wanna take it all back. I-I just wanna start again. I-I know I've got no one but I just wanna start all over and try again." Ryou was mumbling now, his face dead white, staring at his knees. "I'm not sick." He repeated weakly. "I-I wish I was, but I'm not. They thought I was cos I didn't talk..."

"Oh..." Namaki didn't know what to say as she wrote on that little pad of paper, her tngue between her teeth. "Ryou, I know you may think you're not sick-"

"I'm not!" Ryou's head jerked back up. "I-I'm not! I-I thought you would understand, but you don't! No one understands that I was pushed too far and all I want to do is start over..."

"Ryou." She said gently. "You killed a person, and attempted to kill another. Do you honestly think the justice system is going to let you free because you want to have another shot at life? I understand that Bakura was horrible to you, but there were other options. You didn't have to kill him. You could have called the police."

"I'm not a murderer." Ryou breathed. "I'm not... I just wanna forget. Please... You have to tell them I'm sorry. You have to tell them how they forced me to so it to them... I'm trusting you, Namaki..."

"Ryou..." She stared at the whitenette. "I can't... Please, don't lay that on me. You're registered to remain in this mental facility until your case comes up again. You'll be twenty-five by then. We've been through this."

"No..." Ryou shook his head. "But I've told you all about this now. I explained why I did it. I said I was sorry, I-I said that it was Bakura's fault for pushing me so hard... Please..." The psychiatrist opened her mouth to speak, when the door opened, and a doctor, flanked by two security orderlies on either side appeared. "Please..." He begged, closing his eyes and whimpering as the ordelies grabbed a skinny shoulder each. "_Please_."

"Any progress?" The male doctor asked Namaki, surveying Ryou. The psychiatrist bit hard on her lip, and looked down from her notes to Ryou, and back again.

"No." She finally muttered, capping the lid on her pen. Ryou's eyes widened in panic, and his mouth fell open.

"N-No!" He cried out, making to move towards the doctor. The orderlies overpowered Ryou easily, however, walking towards the door. "NO!" Ryou screamed as he was dragged out of the room, struggling desperately. "I told you why! I said I was sorry! I want it to go away! I want my life back Namaki! I trusted you!" Namaki's face was blank as Ryou was dragged out of her office. Te doctor followed, giving Namaki a short bow, before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Then the psychiatrist tore up her notes and threw them in the bin.

* * *

Yeah, that was weird, I know. -,-; The psychiatrist came off bitchier than I wanted. Meh.

R&R!


	8. The Artist

Yey! Another strange, sadistic one. -,-' I have come to the conclusion that I need psychiatric help XD

I might like, not do these anymore... I did like the little oneshot thingies more... -ponder-

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

* * *

"Ryou."

The whitentte froze, and started to shake. The yami smirked as he leaned against the doorframe, staring at Ryou. The teenager was perched on the end of the bed, a book in his hands. His back was perfectly straight, and Ryou's neck was starting to cramp up from keeping his head bowed.

"Go away." Ryou whispered, biting on his lip hard. "D-Don't come near me-"

"It's ten O'Clock." Bakura cut over Ryou smoothly, stalking across the distance of the bedroom. The book tumbled to the floor as RYou started to cry, shaking his head. "You know what that means, Ryou."

"Don't." Ryou pleaded. He looked up, despite the pain in his back, staring up into those cold, russet-coloured orbs. "Please." The white-haired yami only snarled, wihdrawing the scalpel from the back pocket of his jeans. "P-Plea-"

"Shut up and get your shirt off." Bakura snarled without mercy. Ryou shook his head as he sobbed gently, still shaking. "Now."

"P-Please-"

"Now!" Bakura struck Ryou hard across the face with his free hand, the whitenette gasping in pain. "Do you _want_ me to make it worse for you?"

"N-no." Ryou gasped, pulling at the hem of his shirt. As always, he whimpered in pain as he moved his arms, shifting the skin on his back and flexing the muscles. Bakura stared at Ryou's bandaged chest, tapping his foot impatiently. Ryou's eyes were wider than ever, innocent and imploring as he looked up at his master.

"Get the bandages off, or I'll cut them off." Bakura only muttered nastily, crossing his slender arms. Ryou shook his head, pressing his lips together. "_Ryou_." The whitenette emitted another soft sob as he started unravelling the bandages around his chest and stomach. Although the pale skin on his front was flawless, and unmarked, both of the males knew the back was a different story. "Lie down." Bakura commanded as the last of the bloodstained bandages fell to the floor. "With your hands underneath you." Ryou whimpered. "Do you want me to tie you down?"

"N-No..." Ryou whispered softly as he lay down on his stomach, submitting. His hands were clasped to his chest beneath him, and his face buried in the pillow.

"Then shut up." Bakura snarled as he straddled Ryou's thighs. He easily brushed the tangled mane of silver away, staring down at Ryou's back. It was beautiful.

Bakura was truly an artist.

He'd been working on Ryou's back for almost three months. He'd blunted no less than five scalpels as he indulged in his art, but Bakura thought it had been worth it. When he was going to be finished, (Bakura thought) it was going to look spectacular. He'd started by drawing what he wanted to do on Ryou's back with a sharpie marker, and, before that could wear off, he started on carving the basic outline in Ryou's skin. It took almost a week. Partly because Bakura knew Ryou couldn't lose too much blood at one time, and partly, because after the first time Bakura took to his back with a scalpel, Ryou tended to run away screaming in fear, and it took a long time to catch him.

Ryou moaned as Bakura ran a finger idly along the scars. It was coming along well. He'd finished the framework completley - Large pillars that rose up Ryou's back and an archway over his shoulders, all entertwined with roses and all in fine detail. He'd even carved out little circles of skins to give the effect of shading in some places. They had to heal over partly, and then cut freshly open, or the skin would not scar, a long, labourous, and agonizing procedure. But it was certainly worth it, in Bakura's eyes.

"We're almost done in the middle." Bakura stared down at the figure of the angel on Ryou's back. The lines were red, angry, and throbbing. "Just a few more run-overs, and it'll all be over. Then the picture will finally be complete." Ryou shook as he sobbed, burying his face deeper in the pillow. Bakura stared at the young girl emblazoned on Ryou's back. She needed her wings and hair to be white...

Somehow, Ryou suspected that it was Amane that his yami was drawing. Bakura had always had a strange fascination for his sister, one that chilled the teenager to the bone. He was only permitted to let Amane's photos -not even his mothers- hang on the wall, photos Ryou had caught Bakura staring at. And the yami had broken into his memories of Amane, Ryou just _knew_. And now he was carving her on his back. Bakura had spent hours on it. Hours of drawing blood and tears from Ryou just so he could toy with this sick fascination he called 'art'. It made Ryou want to vomit. The unfairness of it all, the pain, the humiliation... And the light had no say. He tried to fight back, yes. But all that achieved was a beating.

Ryou screamed as Bakura started to slit one of the angry red lines. his hands underneath him grasped tightly at the pillow, and he was crying, yelling in obvious pain. It never hurt any less, the sick form of art Bakura performed on Ryou's body. Every night, he was put through this torture, and every night, he ended up broken and sobbing on the bed, a product of Bakura's enjoyment, a piece on canvas for his creative outlet.

"Don't move." Bakura commanded. He was running the scalpel over Amane's foot, deepening the lines. Ryou screamed as the yami started on her leg again, before the hem of the long white robe covered the slim figure carved on Ryou's back.

"Stop." Ryou moaned hoarsely, sobbing and bleeding. "Please.." Bakura growled, and dug the scalpel in a little harder, causing the teenager to scream.

"Shut up." He growled without mercy, biting on his tongue to hold his concentration. "I need to concentrate here." Ryou pressed his face harder into the pillow, sobbing weakly._ Stop stop stop... Please, it hurts so much, just stop, please please please just stop oh God it hurts it hurts so much this isn't human he has to stop stop Bakura stop stop stop Bakura stop it stop it now stop the hurting stop it stop the pain please it hurts it hurts it __**hurts**_

"That's enough for tonight." Bakura lifted the scalpel away from Ryou's back, staring down at what he had done. He'd only done the feet, and part of the robe, but he didn't like how badly Ryou was shaking (He couldn't make a single mistake. After all, he only had one canvas) and the teenager was looking awfully pale.

"Why." Ryou lifted his head as he whispered the word, his voice shaking. "I-I don't understand..."

"Shut up." Bakura stood up, licking the blood from the sharp edge of the scalpel. "Shut the fuck up." Ryou whimpered, propping himelf up on his elbows. His whole back stung, but it was the lower part, where his skin was freshly sliced open that throbbed.

"I-It hurts..." Ryou whispered pathetically, his eyes closed. "I-It r-really h-hurts..." Bakura snarled at the teenager's pathetic demeanour, rolling his eyes. "Please..."

"Shut up." Bakura snarled. "Shut the fuck up." He repeated. "Stop complaining and get over it."

"Y-You slice o-open my back every night for your sick desires." Ryou whispered. "A-And y-you t-tell me to stop complaining?" He managed to sit up, whimpering in pain as his skin moved. "Y-You... You..."

"Stop." Bakura spun around. He froze for a moment, staring at Ryou's face. The teenager was deathly pale, trembling, and there were dark purple, almost black circles under his eyes. It look like somebody had punched him. He looked really sick. "Shit."

"What?" Ryou lowered his eyes, his chin trembling. Bakura shook his head, and turned away. He felt no guilt, no remorse for what he did to Ryou every night. It had to be done. After all, it wouldn't be too long now before Bakura would be done, it would all heal over, and all that would be left was a long network of white scars.

After all, Bakura was an artist.

It was his work.

* * *

-.- I think the next one should be fluffy.

R&R?


	9. Almost Nothing

Heyy al!

Ehehehe... You know how you all wanted something fluffy?

D

At least this one isn't bloody!

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

Ryou gasped as the apartment door slammed open. He kept his head down, focusing intently on his baking, making sure to stir the batter in smooth, even circles. He tried his hardest to not make himself a target for criticism. The teenager bit on his lip hard as Bakura stomped into the bedroom, probably to change out of his now bloodstained clothes. It had become somewhat of a habit. Ryou never question the origin of the blood, he just went along with it. It was just easier that way.

"What's this?" Bakura snarled as he loomed in the doorway of the tiny kitchen. Ryou froze, and kept his eyes locked on his baking, his hands starting to tremble. _Oh no... What does he want now. Please Bakura, please just leave me alone_... "You wrecked my shirt." Bakura stomped towards Ryou, and started waving the shirt in his face. Ryou kept his concentration on the baking. "Look at me when I'm fucking talking to you!"

Ryou whimpered, and he stopped his anxious stirring, finally raising his eyes up to the yami. Bakura glared at the younger whitenette in contempt, one of his tank tops crumpled in one hand.

"I-I'm sorry, B-Bakura-sama." Ryou breathed, releasing his hold on the wooden spoon. "I-I left it in the bleach to soak so it would get rid of the blood, th-then I was busy-" Ryou gasped as he was slapped hard across the face, the force of the blow turning his head to one side. Ryou's hand was trembling as he raised it to his burning cheek, forcing back tears.

"Don't make fucking excuses!" Bakura raged, still dangling the shirt in front of Ryou's face. "I told you to clean off the blood, and you wrecked my fucking shirt!" He slapped Ryou again, harder this time. "You're useless Ryou! You're nothing!"

"Why do you always do this to me?" Ryou blurted out, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I-I was busy cleaning up your room, Bakura-sama. I-I'm sorry..."

"Sorry doesn't fucking cut it!" Bakura dropped the shirt to the floor, grabbing onto Ryou's shoulders. He shook the teenager hard, even lifting Ryou slightly off the floor. "I asked you to do one simple thing, and you fucked up! Again! Why don't you ever _learn_?"

"I'm sorry!" Ryou pleaded, his slim frame shaking. "I-I didn't mean to, Bakura-sama, I swear!"

"You better fucking be sorry!" Bakura spun on his heel, slamming Ryou up against the fridge. "You always screw up! Always!" Ryou closed his eyes, and flinched away, whimpering.

"Let me go!" Ryou pleaded, struggling and writhing. "I-I'm trying to bake..."

"Fuck the baking!" Bakura raged. "I don't give a damn about your precious cookies and cakes! I want you to fix it!" Ryou whimpered, shaking madly. "Understand?"

"Yes!" Ryou yelped, Bakura's nails digging into his porcelain skin. "I-I understand Bakura-sama... Please, let me go. P-Please..." he moaned, closing his eyes. Bakura only chuckled under his breath, leaning in closer to Ryou.

"This is the third time in a week you've screwed me over, Ryou." Bakura hissed angrily, leering in Ryou's face. "I'm so fucking sick of it!" He slammed Ryou against the fridge again. "Why don't you ever fucking learn!" Ryou was sobbing as Bakura gripped his shoulder, and screamed as he was punched hard in the stomach. "You're hopeless!"

"Stop it!" Ryou screamed as he was punched again, sobbing. "Stop it stop it stop it!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Bakura roared as he let Ryou go, the teenager sliding to the floor against the fridge. "I never said you could talk!" Ryou pressed his lips together, holding his hands over his head, slumped into the floor. "Fuck you Ryou!" The teenager screamed as he was kicked hard in the ribs, again and again, Bakura hurled the blows into his side without mercy. Ryou yelped as he curled into a tight ball, shielding his head and trying his hardest to try and hide from Bakura's ruthless beating. The yami drove his steel-capped boots into Ryou's side and back repeatedly, until finally he slowed, feeling drained. Ryou whimpered as he tried to get up, his torso throbbing in pain.

"P-Please..." Ryou whispered as he slumped into the floor, sobbing. "P-Please..."

"Look at yourself." Bakura snarled. "You can't even defend yourself. You're nothing Ryou. Well, that's not correct, is it?" Bakura smirked as he heavily pressed his foot on Ryou's back. "You are something after all." He leaned down, applying even more pressure to Ryou's back as he smiled. "You're my slave, after all." Ryou moaned, and shook his head. "Yes, you _are_." Bakura leered, almost cracking Ryou's ribs with his feet. "Now say it." Ryou whimpered. "Say it _now_, you little bitch, or I'll smash your ribcage."

"I-I..." Ryou moaned, tears pooling on the floor. "I-I'm a s-slave..." Bakura smiled, releasing a little pressure on Ryou's back. "I-I'm nothing..."

"Not nothing." Bakura sneered. "Almost. You're almost nothing. You still have one purpose, Ryou. To serve me." Ryou was sobbing, his bruised, beaten back and sides throbbing in agony. "But you know that, don't you, Ryou?" Ryou nodded weakly, his limbs lax.

"Yes, Bakura-sama." He whispered brokenly. "I understand..."

* * *

"Oh Ryou..."

The teenager bit his lip as he cast the worn shirt to the floor, naked from the waist up. He turned to face Bakura, his hands trembling slightly.

"I hurt you bad, didn't I?" The question didn't require an answer as Ryou sat on the edge of the bed, his hair falling into his eyes as he bent down a little. "You're so fragile..." The whitenette bit his lip hard as Bakura placed a hand on Ryou's back, staring at pale, creamy skin marred with bruises. "It's like you'll break any moment..."

"I will." Ryou's voice cracked, and he looked away. "I can't take your hurting, Bakura... I can't."

"Stop it." Bakura snarled, pressing one finger hard into Ryou's bruise. The whitenette gasped, arching his back. "Well, stop."

"I'm sorry..." Ryou whispered, trembling.

"Me too." Bakura muttered, placing a hand on Ryou's shoulder. "Look at me." The teen was whimpering as he complied, turning to look at the yami. "Good boy."

"Am I really just a slave?" Ryou breathed, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Am I really almost nothing? Or do you just get kinda caught up in the heat of the moment..."

"You cook for me. You clean. You obey every single thing I say. What are you, Ryou?" The teenager held his hands over his mouth, shaking his head from side to side.

"I'm not..." He breathed, sobbing. "I-I'm _not."_ Bakura only snorted, and stood up, pulling off his shirt.

"Bedtime." He commanded, beginning to unbutton his jeans. Ryou looked down, biting his lip. Every night, Bakura played this on him. He was cold, malicious, and demanding during the day, and come night time, would actually try and pretend that he cared about Ryou. And it was all just a depraved ploy to get Ryou in bed, the teenager knew. But he went along with it. He went along with the fake touches, the attempt at genuine sensuality. It was much, much better than rape, after all. And if the teenager closed his eyes, and relaxed enough, it did seem to him that they were lovemaking, and it wasn't just a way to relieve Bakura of his endless lust. It all came down to whether Bakura would climb into bed naked or not. The whitenette kept his eyes downcast, but was looking at the yami out of the corner of his eye, waiting to see what would happen after the jeans had fallen to the floor.

He took his boxers off.

Ryou bit on his lip hard, digging his nails into his palms. He tried to remain stationary for as long as he could, staring down for as long as he could. But of course, it didn't last, and he heard the cough of the yami, who was sitting up in bed, his arms crossed.

"Come to bed, Ryou." He muttered, shooting daggers at the teen. Ryou sniffed, but nodded, slowly sliding his jeans down smooth, creamy legs. "Good boy." Ryou was trembling as he slid beneath the sheets, burying his head in the pillow. His breath hitched in his throat, and his hands tightened in their fists as Bakura started running his hands over the teens' back, massaging the bruised, pale skin.

"That's..." Ryou closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. "It's..."

"Nice?" Bakura leaned over to purr in Ryou's ear. "You like it, don't you?"

"I-I..."

"You do like it." Bakura muttered in triumph, increasing the pressure, just a little.

"Maybe..."

"Whore." Bakura spat, punching Ryou in the back. The whitenette arched his back and screamed, tears pricking in his eyes. "You're such a slut."

"N-No!" Ryou protested, shaking his head. "I-I'm not.."

"Look at yourself." Bakura snarled. "A little slut who enjoys the passion forced upon him. What else would you call it?"

"Please don't do this..." Ryou sobbed weakly. It turned into a gasp as Bakura roughly turned him over, his bruised back pushed into the mattress. "Bakura, no!" He screamed as the yami grabbed at his shins, forcing those slim long legs apart. "Please!"

"What makes this time any different if I'm holding you down?" Bakura sneered, sliding his legs up Ryou's legs and forcing them even further apart.

"Don't take this away from me!" Ryou sobbed. "It's all I have from going insane, don't do this to me! Please..." Bakura only snorted, beginning to settle himself between Ryou's legs. "Please Bakura... Oh please don't do this to me."

"You're a fucking slut." Bakura snarled, forcing Ryou's ankles to rest on his shoulders. The teenager struggled to escape, but the yami held him down, pressing one hand on his stomach, grasping his wrists with the other.

"Y-You c-can't..." Tears leaked down his face. "Kura..."

"You don't understand the concept of this!" Bakura shouted. "You don't understand what you are, Ryou! What I can do to you!"

"STOP!" Ryou screamed. "BAKURA GET OFF ME!" He fought back desperately, scratching at Bakura as hard as he could. "LET GO!" His voice reverberated around the apartment, hoarse and panicked.

"Shut up!" Bakura yelled, trying his hardest to hold Ryou down.

"STOP IT!" Ryou screamed, managing to untangle his legs from Bakura's shoulders, and sit up. Bakura growled, and grabbed at Ryou, but the teenager dodged away from him, tumbling onto the carpet. "Stop..." He moaned hoarsely, holding his head in his hands and sobbing loudly, his shoulders shaking. "Oh God Bakura don't do this to me."

"You're pathetic." Bakura sneered as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Look at yourself."

"Shut up." Ryou whimpered, sobbing in pain and heartbreak. "H-How can you... I _willingly_ gave myself to you... Isn't it enough?"

"Not when you like it, it's not." Bakura growled, bending down to grab a handful of soft white hair. Ryou screamed as his head was jerked back, sobbing weakly.

"You... You sick... H-How could you?" Ryou sobbed. "You... You just can't stand to see me happy. You get off on me being miserable, don't you?" Bakura smirked as he easily lifted the teenager up, throwing Ryou on the bed. He gasped, and tried to scramble off, but before he could move an inch, Bakura had him pinned on the mattress, Ryou writhing and crying beneath him.

"I own you, Ryou." Bakura snarled. "I feigned passion and empathy because I thought my touch repulsed you anyway. And now it doesn't. So I'll have to find something that makes your skin crawl. Something that makes you scrub at yourself for hours on end in the shower, that makes you constantly dirty, worthless, overcome by self-loathing." Ryou turned his face away, his slender frame wracked with sobs. "Just know you brought this upon yourself, slut."

"Y-You manipulated me." Ryou moaned tearfully, his shoulders heaving. "I-I'll do anything you want, don't do this..."

"Guess what, slave?" Bakura sneered, his chest crushed against Ryou's, his hands forcing the teenager's thighs as far apart as they could go. Ryou moaned weakly, in shock. "You can't give me what I want. I have to take it from you. It's true when I said you were almost nothing. The passion was wasted on you. The pretence at kindness... I should have never wasted my time. You're not worth it. This is all your worth. After all, you may be very easy on the eyes, and all that shit, but when it comes down to it, we both know what you are.

You're just a body."

* * *

I tried! I really did! -.-

R&R Anyways?


	10. Stupid Emotions

Hihi!

Cheyuana says 'Yo wazzup mah homies? Lana's the Shibbynistic. Damn straight reppin the Maorified crackers'

(Don't ask... Just don't.)

YOU WANTED FLUFF! WELL HERE! HERE'S SOME FLUFF FOR YOU! -twitch-

Disclaimer: I own nothing. NOTHING.

* * *

I can't help thinking about them again. 

Emotions, I mean.

Yes, strange thoughts do go through my head at 3am, I know. But always, whenever my mind is vacant, I can't help but think about emotions. Not just mine, but feelings in general. It's such a paradox.

They say emotions are what separates us from the apes. They're what make us human, out 'advanced thought patterns'. I don't think of them as advanced, I think of them as damn confusing. They say that out emotions is the primary tool we used to make decisions, and draw judgements. Maybe that's true. How does the saying go? Think with your heart, not your head? Or something? People say that we can tell lies, but we can never really lie about how we feel.

I disagree.

Ryou is a born liar.

Not like the kind of liar who claims the dog ate their homework, or they had a flat tyre, or that they left their sick note at home. I'm talking about Ryou's emotions. He hides them so well when he's around his 'friends.' No wonder he blends in with the wallpaper. I've seen him in the past when he's with them at school, sometimes on the weekend. He's like a zombie. He's so quiet and... Bland.

But then the moment he comes home, Ryou changes. He just... explodes. He erupts in so many different emotions, different feelings. He'll watch a funny television show and laugh himself silly. Whenever he's cooking or cleaning, he'll turn on the radio, his voice making a perfect harmony with the music, bright and cheerful. But it's not always ups. A movie, or sometimes a song, sappy, or sad enough, can easily bring him to tears. Horror films make him horribly scared, and Ryou's always more depressed on a rainy day.

But I know I have a lot to do with it.

I can make Ryou cry easily. All it takes is a few sharp words, a slap across the face, and he easily breaks down into tears, either rushing into his bedroom or curling up on the couch with his head in his hands. But I hate making him cry. There's something about the way his shoulders shake, and those huge eyes welling up with tears that make _me _hurt.

It's the strangest feeling. Like... Like when you get sick in the stomach, like you're going to throw up. Except it's not in my stomach. It's higher up, in my chest. And sometimes, if Ryou cries hard enough, it feels like there's a pin poking in there or something. It _hurts_, and I hate it. I hate how Ryou makes me feel when he cries.

But Ryou makes me feel more than hurt. Whenever he smiles, his whole face lights up and it makes _me_ feel great. My hearts' like a can of soda that's been shaken up like crazy, and just cracked open. Little fizzy bubbles of happiness are poured all over the place. And then, whenever Ryou gets excited, he has a habit of giving me really big hugs. And those are just strange. My face gets all hot and my heart rate goes up. And then it's like butterflies flapping around in my stomach, and it's like my hearts too big for my chest. I wish I knew what it all meant. I'd never felt like this before when I was around anyone. Not even when I was a child. It's just all so confusing. I hate how I feel around Ryou. I tried staying away from him, but that just made Ryou upset (Which I _hate) _and I started... Missing him.

I miss him when I'm not around him. And when I am, I get all of these really weird feelings, and my heart feeling so weird.

Maybe...

_No._

OoOoO

"_Ryou." _

_The teenager groans, his wide brown eyes opening slowly, long dark lashes fluttering. He smiles, gently, rubbing at his eyes. Bakura bites down hard on his lip, those old fluttering feeling starting up in his stomach again._

"_Hmm?" He rolls over onto his side, facing Bakura. The moon shines on his face, lighting up his hair like a silvery halo. The yami continues to chew on his lower lip, his heart starting to thud in his chest. "Kura... What's the time?"_

"_Three-fifteen." Bakura mutters lowly, still looking over at Ryou's face, in all of his sleepy glory. He looks... beautiful. _

"_Oh..." Ryou sighs, rolling over onto his back. "It's... Really late, Kura... Why did you wake me up?"_

"_I wanted to tell you something." Bakura murmurs gently, sitting up straight. The sheet is around his waist and his heart is pounding even harder. Cold sweat trickles down his back. _

"_What is it?" Ryou buries his face in the pillow. "Can't it wait til morning-"_

"_NO!" Bakura's scared, his eyes widening. "No it can't!" Ryou's attention is sparked and he props himself up on his elbows. _

"_Kura... What is it?" The teenager tilts his head to one side, frowning. Bakura looks away, fiddling with the sheets. _

"_I think..." Bakura mutters, his voice just above a whisper. "I think I love you." He can't look at Ryou when he says this- instead, he just looks down at the mattress, his hands trembling. _

"_I know." Ryou is silent for a long time before he whispers the words, staring up at the ceiling. "I know." He repeats, the sheets up to his chin. Bakura still looks away, his heart thudding in his chest, banging like a drum._

"_I..." Bakura whispered. "I..." He tried again, but his lips couldn't form the words. He dares to look down at the whitenette, who is staring blankly up at the ceiling. Bakura looks back away again, and slowly sinks down into the bed again, pulling the blankets up. _

"_Kura." Ryou whispers gently. He rolls over onto his side, staring at the yami. Bakura is lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, watching shifting patterns on the paint. Ryou is immobile for a long moment, before scooting across the bed, closer to the white-haired man. Bakura turns his head to one side, looking to Ryou, before going to turn back away again. Ryou gently outstretches his hand, however, one hand holding the side of Bakura's face. Ryou's very close to Bakura- their skin is touching, side by side underneath the sheets. Ryou's hands shake as he leans over the yami, two slim white hands holding Bakura's face. His eyes are wide in shock as Ryou kisses him, a soft, gentle kiss on his lips. Bakura closes his eyes, his hands lowering down to the small of Ryou's back._

"_Wow." Bakura breathes as Ryou breaks away. He stares up into those beautiful brown eyes, his hands shaking on Ryou's back. The teenager smiles weakly, his cheeks tinged pink in a blush. "You..."_

"_Yup." Ryou pressed his nose against Bakura's, giggling. "I always have, Kura. I was just waiting for you to feel the same way." _

"_I have for ages." Bakura mutters gently. "I just never realised it. I didn't know what those feelings were..."_

"_And now you do." Ryou said softly. He presses his lips against Bakura, harder this time. Bakura's hands wander lower, his hands palming Ryou's rear, and he groans. It's like fireworks are exploding in his chest, cracking and bursting in his ribcage. _

_It's the greatest feeling of all._

_

* * *

_

There. FLUFF! ARE YOU HAPPY!!!

Hahaha. Again, I'm sorry about Cheyuana... Argh.

R&R!


	11. Pushed To The Limit

Ello ello all!

Muahaha... This isn't exactly fluff.. But there's almost no blood XD

Uhh... This has a lemon in it too. So, a bit of a heads up if you don't like 'em XD (It's also extremely weird o.O)

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

"You're home." Bakura looked up from the television as Ryou closed the door behind him, dropping his bag to the floor and dragging off his coat. He tossed it to the floor, ineffectually, and ran into the lounge, resting one hand on the doorframe as he stared at Bakura.

"Shut up." Ryou didn't look at Bakura as he flopped down on the couch beside Bakura, snatching the remote from the yami's lap. Bakura rolled his eyes, but allowed Ryou to wrap an arm around his waist. He leaned into the touch, resting his head on Ryou's collarbone.

"You're in a shitty mood." Bakura remarked, staring at the screen. Ryou stayed silent, although his arm around Bakura's waist tensed. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No." Ryou snorted, pushing Bakura away as he sat up straight, crossing his arms and legs. "I do _not_ 'wanna talk about it'."

"I was just asking." Bakura muttered, chewing on his lower lip as he straightened up himself, his arms behind his head. "Want something to eat?"

"No." Ryou repeated, staring intently at the screen, despite it being a desperately boring sitcom.

"Then what do you want?" Bakura smirked, turning his head to face Ryou. The teenager only raised an eyebrow, before coolly turning to Bakura, his arms still crossed.

"I want to fuck you." He kept his expression perfectly calm as he stared at Bakura, who blinked, taken aback for a moment.

"Is that what they call it now?" He regained his composure, frowning a little as he stared at Ryou.

"What can you call it?" The whitenette rolled his eyes. "_Love_making? You don't love me. Rape? You want it just as much as me, Bakura, I know."

"How about we just call it sex?" Bakura blinked as Ryou gripped his upper arms, pulling him closer.

"Because sex is to have kids, Bakura." Their faces grew closer, their noses almost touching. "That's not what we're doing, is it?"

"What are we doing?" Bakura breathed, the smell of Ryou's shampoo washing over him. "Huh? Why do you do this to yourself? To me?" Ryou kept his eyes locked on the yami, but Bakura felt Ryou's hands on his upper arms shake. "You were bullied today."

"Shut up." Ryou spat, anger contorting his features. "Shut _up_ Bakura."

"They did." Bakura stared calmly into wide brown eyes. "They hurt you, didn't they? And I bet it was more than punches or kicks. You're getting older Ryou, and so are your bullies-"

"Stop it!" Ryou blurted out, tears starting to fill his eyes. "_Shut up!"_

"Who was it, Ryou?" Bakura's hands started to shake, and anger welled up in his chest. "Which one of them did it to you? Or did they take turns-"

"_STOP!"_ Ryou screamed, the tears trickling down his face as he pushed Bakura, slamming his back into the seat of the couch. "Shut _up_ Bakura! You don't know what you're fucking saying!"

"You're not denying it." Despite Bakura's calm exterior as he was pinned against the couch, Ryou hovering over him on all fours, he was shaking with anger. _I'm going to get who did this. I'm doing to get the bastards who did this to my Ryou, and I'm going to fucking__** destroy**__ them. _"So it must be true."

"Shut up!" Ryou yelled, albeit weaker this time. Bakura stared up at Ryou coolly, not changing his exterior. He loved to fuck with Ryou's mind as every possible opportunity, in a bid to bring out that cold, angry streak in the teenager, the streak Ryou tried to hard to conceal.

"Why?" Bakura raised an eyebrow. One hand was at his side, and he gently started to trail the long bony digits up Ryou's leg, lightly skimming over his back and combing through long white hair, before finishing on Ryou's cheek, stroking the tearstained skin. The whitenette looked away, shaking as his eyes closed. "Kiss me." Bakura commanded as his left hand started following the same path up Ryou's other side, the teenager trembling. "Now."

"Like hell I should listen to you." Ryou spat, his brow furrowing in anger. "Just who do you think you are?"

"I'm your better." Bakura smirked as he laid his hands on Ryou, one on his cheek, the other threading through his hair. "Am I not?"

"So it's the Master getting pounding into the mattress every other night?" Ryou's hands were shaking, pressing Bakura's shoulders into the couch cushions.

"And it's the slave getting fucked when it's not his turn." Bakura's right hand grasped onto Ryou's hair also, and he forcefully yanked the teenager down for a rough, but passionate kiss. Ryou froze for a moment, taken aback, before curling his tongue around Bakura's battling for dominance. The yami deepened the kiss, exploring Ryou's sweet mouth.

But it was not sweet tonight. Bakura's insides shrivelled in disgust as the taste of salt met him, an essence that was not his, or Ryou's. He yanked hard on Ryou's hair as he broke away from the kiss, the whitenette gasping as his neck was arched back.

"Whore." Bakura snarled the hateful word, his voice full of spite. "You couldn't even take a fucking breath mint, could you? Maybe you _like_ being violated by those boys-"

"_Shut up!" _Ryou screamed, unable to control himself as he hit Bakura hard across the face in his anger. "_Shut the fuck up Bakura!"_ The tears flowed freely as Ryou started punching his chest and stomach, sobbing. The yami only took a few more blows before he gripped Ryou's wrists forcefully, holding Ryou's arms up above his head.

"Well fuck you too." Bakura snarled, staring up into tearful brown eyes. Saline water dripped onto his own face, and he shook it away. Ryou moaned softly, trying to wrench his arms away from Bakura's grasp, but to no avail.

"Let me go." Ryou managed to keep his voice even, glaring down at the yami. "Let me go _now_ or I'll-"

"You'll _what._" Bakura heaved, tightening his arms around Ryou's bony wrists. "Huh? You can't do a thing to me, and you know it. Don't you, Ryou?"

"Shut up!" Ryou yelled, and with a burst of strength he didn't know he had, he wrenched his arms from Bakura's hands, grabbing the front of his shirt, and pressing him into the couch. "You know nothing!"

"Oh, on the contrary." Bakura smiled, his hands resting on Ryou's rear as the teenager wrenched hard on the shirt, managing to tear the cotton. "I know _everything_ about you. And it scares you shitless, doesn't it?"

"Fuck you." Ryou sobs as he yanks the shirt from Bakura's torso, exposing his chest. "Fuck you, Bakura. You are _not_ helping me! You never help!"

"I tried." Bakura glared up into Ryou's eyes, his gaze locked onto those wide, chocolate orbs. "I fucking tried Ryou. But then you came out with some shit about you not needing me to fight your battles." He dragged his hands around to Ryou's front, unbuttoning the white school shirt. "And you got _so_ far, didn't you?"

"I don't need you." Ryou sobbed as he started unbuckling Bakura's belt. He started on the jeans next, rising his slim form up a little so he could slide the stonewashed grey denim down Bakura's thighs. The yami kicked off the trousers, not breaking his gaze from Ryou.

"You do so need me." Bakura pulled off a button as he yanked down Ryou's trousers. "Get these off before I rip them off." Ryou obeyed, shrugging himself out of the royal blue material. "Good boy."

"Do_ not_ patronize me." Ryou snarled as he hooked his thumbs in Bakura's boxers. "It's the last thing I need."

"And I'm the first, aren't I?" Bakura kept his eyes locked on Ryou's as the teenager laid down on top of him, their legs tangling.

"You're an arrogant prick." Ryou proclaimed, their noses inches apart. "And you know it don't you?"

"Of course I do." Bakura hurriedly pulled down Ryou's boxers, his breath hitching as he cupped Ryou's flawless round rear. "Admit it Ryou, you know without the sex, you'd go insane." The bridge of Ryou's nose wrinkled in a snarl.

"It's sex that got me in this position." He muttered through gritted teeth, his hands on Bakura's thighs.

"And now you're in too deep."

"Look who's talking, _Master."_

"Oh, shut up and fuck me." Ryou kept his eyes locked on Bakura, and he licked his lips nervously as he spread Bakura's thighs. The yami's breath hitched in his throat, and he closed his eyes, finally breaking visual contact, as Ryou slowly slid two fingers into his entrance. "_Shit _Ryou."

"What?" Ryou's noses touched Bakura's for a moment, before his teeth found a patch of skin on Bakura's throat. The yami released his hold on one of Ryou's cheeks, and he grabbed at the skinny wrist that was preparing him, roughly yanking it away.

"Come on, none of that crap." He arched his neck a little more as Ryou bit down on the skin, gritting his teeth. "I'm not a pussy like you."

"You're just not as tight." Ryou lifted his mouth away from Bakura's neck to utter the words, and raised his head to stare into those crimson-mahogany eyes. Ryou grabbed Bakura's legs, at the top of his thighs, and crushed his hips with the yami, before starting to push his erection inside the older male. Bakura's eyes widened, and he bit his lip, arching his back and neck. Ryou gritted his teeth as Bakura dug his nails into his rear, marring the silky white skin with red marks. Ryou's breath quickened as he pushed himself further into Bakura, struggling to pass the tight ring of muscles with no preparation. The yami bit on his lip harder, closing his eyes and screwing them up tight. Ryou started panting as he thrust himself another few inches inside Bakura, his hands snaking up the yamis' sides.

"_Fuck_." Bakura dug his fingers harder into Ryou's skin, before sliding his feet up the couch, bending his legs. The teenager's eyes widened at the movement, grinding their hips together as he finally managed to bury himself into Bakura up to the hilt. "Shit." Bakura cursed again, biting his lip in an attempt to counteract the stinging pain that spread up his spine, flaming at his rear. There was a tiny smirk on Ryou's face as he withdrew himself from Bakura, almost to the tip, and slammed himself into the older male. The yami gasped, clenching his eyes tightly shut again.

"I-I know you like this." Ryou panted as he thrust himself into Bakura again, his hands on Bakura's shoulders once more, pressing down and lifting himself up off the yami's chest. "D-Don't y-you try to d-deny it." He gasped, starting to work himself into a rhythm, pounding in and out of Bakura.

"Never did." Bakura chuckled, his breathing harsh and ragged. He didn't feel humiliated as Ryou screwed him. He didn't expect himself to. After all, he manipulated Ryou into this situation. He played with the teenagers emotions, toying with Ryou, probing and poking fun at him. "Oh _fuck_." He snarled, panting as he raised his hips to meet Ryou, his nails drawing blood from the teen's skin. "_Fuck!"_

"Wh-What's wrong, Bakura?" Ryou was breathing fast and hard, his body coated in a thin sheen of sweat as he thrust himself into and out of Bakura, slowly moving faster and harder. "Too much?"

"You wish." Bakura groaned, his teeth gritted hard as Ryou's member roughly pleasured the bundle of nerves, hidden deep in his passage. "Y-You fucking _wish_."

"Ha." Ryou smiled again, his arms shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Bakura opened his eyes, biting his lip to keep from screaming as Ryou fucked him. He stared up at Ryou as he moved his hands, roughly dragging his nails across Bakura's back, drawing blood to the surface. "O-Oh..." Ryou closed his eyes, his mouth falling open at the sensation. He arched his neck as blood trickled down his spine, gritting his teeth. His response was to thrust inside the yami as fast and as hard as he possibly could, pushing himself to the ends of his physical limit.

"_Fuck."_ Bakura groaned again, continuing to claw at Ryou's back. The pleasure had finally overtaken the pain, his limbs trembling.

"That's right." Ryou panted, pressing his palms into Bakura's shoulders harder. He bit his lip as he felt the familiar pressure on his groin, the sensation of his impending orgasm increasing. "Oh _shit_." Ryou swore, arching his back. Bakura raked his nails across the teen's skin again, his erect member sandwiched tightly between his own stomach and Ryou's.

"Fuck Ryou." Bakura hissed. He was close to the edge, so so close... "I-I'm gonna..." He gasped again as Ryou's hands sneaked between their bodies, slim bony fingers starting to stroke his erect shaft. "_Fuck_." Ryou's slender frame trembled as he thrust himself inside Bakura one more time, slamming his member inside the yami harder than ever. It was this motion that pushed him over the edge, caused him to arch his back and cry out as he came, grabbing Bakura's bony hips and digging his nails in hard, his essence filling Bakura's passage. The yami followed suit less than a second later, grabbing Ryou's upper arms, biting _hard_ on Ryou's collarbone as his orgasm struck him, coating both his stomach and Ryou's with his semen.

"O-Oh..." Ryou breathed as his arms and legs gave out on him. He collapsed on Bakura's chest, his nose in Bakura's neck, totally limp. He lay there, trembling, his nerve endings exploding in pleasure. "_Hell_."

_More like heaven._ Bakura grinned to himself, sinking into the couch, amazed he could even think coherently after what Ryou had done to him. What he let Ryou do to him. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to get lost in the sensations, Ryou's body warm, shaking, and sweaty on top of him.

"Hey." Ryou mumbled, exhausted as Bakura rolled out from underneath him, lying on his side, their chests touching. "What's the deal?"

"What deal?" Bakura smirked as he slowly trailed a finger down Ryou's chest. The teenager trembled at the touch. Ryou rolled over and looked Bakura in the eye. "What?"

"Why are you afraid to be held?" Ryou questioned, his chest heaving. "Huh?" Bakura only rolled his eyes and looked away. "_Listen_ to me!"

"Oh blah blah." Bakura muttered cruelly as he sat up. He leaned across Ryou, gathering his clothes off the threadbare carpet. He used Ryou's school shirt to wipe the salty fluid off his stomach, and tossed it to the floor. Ryou made a strangled noise in his throat, before locking his gaze with Bakura again. "Don't give me that look."

"Don't you dare walk away like nothing happened, Bakura." There was a hint of anger in Ryou's voice as he narrowed his eyes. "Don't you bloody dare-"

"You've had your fun." Bakura muttered airily, pulling his jeans up his legs. "What else do you fucking want?"

"I want you to stay!" Tears formed in Ryou's eyes. "I want you to lie here with me! I want you to enjoy the moment Bakura, to hold on to it and just be still here with me! Not cast me aside like some cheap whore-"

"Who was the one getting fucked this time around Ryou?" The teenager shook his head, tears pouring down his cheeks again.

"It doesn't matter who was on top, Bakura." He moaned, starting to tremble. "Just don't leave me. God Bakura, don't leave me." Ryou sat up, grabbing at Bakura's hands. "Please-"

"Get the fuck off me." Bakura pushed Ryou's hands away, and stood up off the couch, stretching. Ryou buried his face in his hands and sobbed weakly.

"Y-You're just like them." Ryou whispered, his heart sinking like a stone. Bakura froze for a moment, before turning on his heel, his eyes widening.

"Like who?" He snarled, his hands clenching into his fists.

"Like those bullies." Ryou whispered tiredly, wiping at his eyes. Bakura's upper lip curled in a snarl, and he barely restrained himself from hitting Ryou.

"Like hell I am." Bakura snarled, gritting his teeth. "You _dare_ say that again-"

"You use me to get off and then you totally abandon me." Ryou's eyes were downcast. Bakura rolled his eyes.

"I kissed you." He muttered. "Don't tell me that counts for nothing."

"It doesn't." Ryou bust out, hiccupping. "They did too. J-Just as roughly as you, Bakura. I... Oh_ God_ how can you do this to me?"

"Look at yourself." Bakura shook his head. "You were drunk on the power you assumed you held over me." He muttered, crossing his arms. "And how you're hung over from it."

"I'm exhausted." Ryou muttered hoarsely. "I'd hit you if I weren't so tired."

"And I'd punch you back twice as hard." Bakura retaliated, unfazed. "Stop being so overdramatic Ryou, I gave you what you want."

"Like you never wanted it." Ryou muttered. "Did I really overpower you, or were you just letting me win?"

"Were you actually raped?" Bakura's hands were now on his hips. "Or just molested?" Ryou's shoulders shook.

"I asked first." He muttered. Bakura rolled his eyes.

"I'm your master." He raised an eyebrow. "You said they kissed you. Were you lured into it or something?"

"Piss off." Ryou breathed. "What do you think? Do you think I would willingly even flirt with those people? They held me down the whole time." Bakura frowned slightly.

"So you _were_ raped." Ryou looked away.

"Almost." He breathed, crying silently. "I-I was in the locker room. If that teacher didn't walk into the gym..." He buried his head in his hands, shuddering violently.

"Fuck you're insecure." Bakura scratched at his head. Ryou looked up from his hands, his hair tangled and eyes red-rimmed.

"Can you blame me?" He whispered. "Between them and you-"

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to them." The angry streak was back, Bakura could see it as he hit back, and Ryou tensed his jaw.

"You're just as bad as them and you know it." He spat. "No. You're _worse_. You just make me delude myself that there's _something_ in my life I control, that I have power over. But it was just another one of your lies, isn't it?"

"You're fucked up, Ryou." Bakura said flatly. "It's deeper than that. Do you think that I would demean myself like that just to screw with you?"

"Of course you would." Ryou muttered, looking away.

"You're wrong. Do you honestly think that I don't care?" Ryou's heart dared to lift, just a little. "You're the first person to ever actually fuck me, not be on the receiving end. And you think that doesn't mean anything?"

"I don't know." Ryou replied honestly, staring down at his hands, which twisted and turned nervously in his lap. "I don't know what to think anymore." Bakura snorted as he crossed the lounge, where a washing basket of clean clothes resided in the corner. He pulled out the first shirt he could find, and pulled it on.

"I'm going out." He announced, dragging his hair out from under the collar of his shirt. Ryou started to cry.

"But I want you here-"

"I don't give a fuck what you want." Bakura snarled, clenching his hands into fists. "God, you piss me off sometimes. I just let you fuck me into next week, what about I do what _I_ want now?" Ryou bit his lip, closing his eyes. "That's what I thought." Bakura headed towards the front door.

"Fuck you." Ryou whispered tearfully. "Fuck you Bakura!" He clenched his hands into fists. "Go then. Go. See if I fucking care!" Bakura smirked. _That's better. Ryou's so hot when he's angry. He doesn't even know that I'm going to destroy those bastards who forced themselves on him. _

Ryou buried his face in his hands again, as the front door slammed shut, and sobbed.

* * *

See! TOLD you it was weird XD XD XD

Ryou was OOC, I know -.- Oh well, it could have been worse.

R&R!


	12. Suffocation

It has been SO long, I know. Hehehehe.

I didn't abandon this. I just didn't have any good oneshot ideas.

... Still don't.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Damnit all!

* * *

"You're cold."

Ryou shrugged away the bony hand on his shoulder, refusing to look at the yami. He chose instead to focus his gaze out onto the city. The lights blinked and glittered, below and above and all around him. Closing him in. _What would it be like to jump?_ Ryou winced, his thighs freezing against the windowsill. He swing his bare legs back and forth slowly, shivering in the icy night air.

"Come on." Bakura muttered roughly, pulling at Ryou's shoulder. The whitenette merely frowned lightly, shrugging Bakura away, keeping his eyes fixed at the scene around him.

"It's like we're all in these bubbles." Ryou murmured, leaning against the windowsill. "You know? You look down there, at all those cars, and all those people... They're so alone. They just go on. They don't talk to each other, don't wave... Don't even smile..." Ryou let out a long sigh. "When did we become so _isolated_?"

"What are you talking about?" Bakura snorted, his hands on his hips as he stared at the teenager, who was practically hanging out of the window in just a singlet and very short boxers. "Look, the colds' getting to you. Come back in."

"When did we become that?" Ryou whispered, the night breeze toying with stray strands of long white hair. "When did we become so _afraid_ of everyone else? There's nothing to be scared of..."

"Ryou, get down from there!" Bakura was becoming downright scared at this point. "I don't know what the hell you're babbling on about, but stop it!"

"We're so afraid of contact." Ryou whispered. "All these stories we hear about murders and rapes and robberies and terrorism... It's made us so scared, we don't know what to do with ourselves." Bakura let out a long sigh, running his fingers through his tangles.

"Ryou..."

"At the same time, we crave that contact." Ryou whispered, his eyes welling up with tears. "We want to feel something so bad. They force this contact on us. They give us bars and strip clubs and brothels, practically pouring the alcohol down our necks. It's like we're not allowed relationships, we're just allowed drunken affairs." Bakura bit his lip, surveying the whitenette intently.

"Come on-"

"And when someone is lucky enough to _get _a relationship with someone, it's screwed up." Ryou started to cry, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Like us."

"What?" Bakura was confused. "Ryou, what the hell are you talking about? We're fine. The world's fine. Come down and come to bed."

"No." Ryou shook his head, crying. "It's not fine. Nothing's fine. Look at us, Bakura. _Look_ at us. We're a mess. Everything is a mess. An awful fucking mess!" Ryou held his hands over his mouth, trying to muffle his sobs. Bakura sighed deeply, looking away, at the walls, the ceiling, the bed. Anything but Ryou. He just couldn't handle him when he was crying like this. It was too hard.

"Stop crying." Bakura sighed. "You're thinking too hard on this, Ryou. Life sucks. I know that. You know that. The whole fucking world knows that. It's all down the toilet. They jam us in these shoeboxes and let us fight it out like rats in a cage." Ryou sniffed. "It's nothing new. You know this."

"I know..." Ryou whispered. "But I look down there and I look out and I see apartment after apartment, just like this. Block after block, just like this." He looked away, finally staring Bakura in the face. "It's suffocating."

"Hey..."

"All these big buildings. It's like they're gonna fall in on us. I'm so scared of that. I just want _out_." Ryou stared out at the city again, arching his back slightly. "Don't you ever get scared of this all?"

"You kidding?" Bakura walked up to the teenager, pausing when he was behind him. "It's terrifying." Ryou sniffed weakly. "I want out. I wanna take you out. But how the hell are we gonna do that with no money?"

"I don't know..." Ryou whispered mournfully. "And even then, it won't matter. We'll never have enough. Houses in the suburbs are pushing a million." He leaned over even further, closing his eyes. "It feels a bit like flying..."

"Ryou, stop it." Bakura muttered firmly. "You're just feeling claustrophobic." The teenager sniffed, bowing his head again and closing his eyes. "It's okay to feel like that."

"I'm cold." Ryou whispered. "All over." Bakura sighed, slowly wrapping his arms around Ryou's waist, resting his chin on the teenager's fluffy white hair. "I need to warm up."

"Uhuh." Bakura muttered, taking a step back from the window, Ryou still in his arms. The teenager squeaked, flailing weakly in process as he was dragged away from the window and across the bedroom floor. "I'll warm you up then."

"Bakura..." Ryou sighed, giggling softly as he was lightly thrown onto the soft bed, his hair askew as he sat up, his chest heaving for air. "That's not what I meant."

"I know." Bakura murmured, crawling on the bed. He pushed Ryou's shoulders, forcing him to lie down on the mattress. The teenager sighed, staring up into the yami's narrowed crimson eyes. "But it's called escapism. Ever heard of it before?"

"Don't be patronizing." Ryou mumbled, sighing softly as Bakura gently stretched himself out directly on top of him, tangling their arms and legs together. Bakura rested his forehead against the teen, Ryou's face so close to his, it was blurring.

"I wasn't trying to be." Bakura was somewhat hurt, still looking down at Ryou. "Just relax."

"And shut up?" Ryou tensed under the yami. "Stop my apparently insane ramblings? Oh, I'm sorry if I scared you. I'll stop pouring my heart out, I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable!" Bakura blinked as Ryou angrily pushed him off, sitting up on the bed and crossing his arms.

"Ryou, stop it!" Bakura shouted, grabbing Ryou's shoulders, and forcing the teenager to look him in the eye. "Goddamn it, that's not what I mean!" Ryou was crying silently, pressing his lips together to try and muffle his sobs. "I mean." He started again, quietly, trying to keep his voice as soothing as possible. "You're just so uptight right now. I want you to calm down."

"I am calm." Ryou muttered bitterly, wrenching himself from Bakura and lying down on his side, curling into a tight ball. "Can't you tell?" The yami let out a long, sympathetic sigh, and lay down beside Ryou, slowly wrapping one arm around the lights' stomach. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Bakura muttered in Ryou's ear, the silky strands tickling his nose. "I'm keeping you warm and comfortable." The teenager rolled his eyes, barely able to suppress a smile. "Wanna kiss?"

"No, not really." He muttered dryly, curling his legs in a little more. Bakura followed suit, pressing every inch of himself as he could up against the teen. "I'm not in the mood for any of that."

"You never are anymore." Bakura muttered, glaring at the back of the teenagers' head.

"I'm stressed." Ryou sighed deeply, closing his eyes. "And tired. And sad." Bakura tightened his hold on Ryou. "This sucks."

"Mmm..." Bakura groaned, inhaling the sweet aroma of Ryou's shampoo. "But at least we got each other, huh?" He squeezed Ryou's stomach tightly, the night air from the open window washing over them.

"Yeah." Ryou muttered dully. Bakura frowned, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look Ryou in the eye.

"You sound less than happy." He sighed, running a finger along Ryou's cheek. The whitenette sniffed, shaking his head slightly as Bakura dipped his fingertip through the salty tear tracks. "Am I not enough?"

"Enough for what?" Ryou sighed, opening his eyes, staring blankly out the window. Bakura bit his lip.

"Enough to justify living in this hell." Bakura was totally toneless, his touch on Ryou cold and angry. The teen bit on his lip hard, fresh tears spilling from his eyes.

"Nothing is." He breathed, sobbing quietly. "Don't be angry." Bakura growled, and sat up, running his hands through his hair.

"How the _fuck _do you want me to feel?" Bakura snarled angrily, clenching his hands into fists. "After you say that shit to me! How the fuck _should_ I feel, Ryou!" The teenager whimpered softly, bowing his head.

"You're so insecure." Ryou breathed, shivering. "I still love you."

"Just not enough."

"I don't love anything enough." Ryou sobbed. "Don't do this Bakura, please, I-I can't have you angry at me right now..."

"I'm always angry at you!" Bakura growled, still snarling at the whitenette. "I'm fucking sick of it! I have to do everything in this fucking relationship! It's not that hard-"

"All you want is sex!" Ryou shot back at the top of his voice. "That's not a relationship Bakura, that's just your lust!"

"Can you fucking blame me?" Bakura roared. "It's been three weeks since anything's ever happened!" Ryou stiffened in anger.

"Oh, because _that's_ what it's all about, itsn't it!" Ryou screamed. "That's everything that we're built on! Sex sex sex sex sex! Whenever I try to talk to you about how I feel, you just push me away! Well, if that's what you want, then don't let me hold back!"

"Ryou, stop it!" Bakura actually stamped his foot as Ryou quickly yanked off his shirt, the younger male's chest heaving. "Now!"

"It's what you want, isn't it?" Tears ran down Ryou's cheeks. "Never mind about caring about me, a-about _loving_ me! If you're having enough sex to satisfy your _fucking_ needs, nothing else matters, does it!" Ryou had totally lost it as he roughly yanked down his boxers, climbing into the bed. "Come on, then!"

"Ryou, _NO!_" Bakura screamed as loud as he could muster, his face reddening. "Ryou, stop it! It's not like that at all!"

"Then what is it!" Ryou had been pushed over the edge, and he was trying to hard to keep a tremor out of his voice, but failed. "What the hell is it?"

"I'm fucked up!" Bakura yelled. "You're fucked up too, Ryou!" He grabbed fistfuls of his hair, moaning. "Get over it!"

"Will you two shut the _fuck _up!" Both of the white-haired males jumped at the sound coming through the paper-thin wall. It was accompanied by a series of short thuds against the roughly-painted plaster. "It's three in the _fucking_ morning, and some of us are trying to _sleep_!"

"You shut the fuck up!" Bakura screamed at the wall. "No one asked you!"

"Be bloody quiet!" Bakura whirled around, his eyes widening. "It's too late for this shit!" Ryou buried his face in his hands, sobbing as the verbal abuse came from each side of the wall. Bakura stared at the teenager, his heart thudding.

"For Christs' sake, do you have to yell about it at three in the fucking morning?"

"Take your problems somewhere else!"

"I have work at five, how can I sleep now?"

"Goddamn can't you just go back to sleep?"

"_STOP IT!"_ Ryou screamed as loud as he could possible muster, his hands held over his ears. "_EVERYONE JUST SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!"_ Bakura stared as Ryou sobbed, his shoulders quaking.

"Ryou..."

"YOU TOO!" Ryou screamed. "IM SICK OF IT!" The yami watched as Ryou gently started rocking himself back and forth, crying loudly. "Everyone just stop it!" Bakura leaned against the wall of the tiny bedroom, exhaling deeply.

"Will someone shut that kid up?"

"For _fucks_ sake, do you want me to come over there?"

"HE'LL SHUT UP HIMSELF IF YOU FUCK UP!" Bakura raged, punching the wall. Ryou moaned softly, beside himself. Bakura ran his fingers through his hair, yanking at the knots. "FOR FUCKS SAKE!"

"He damn well better!"

"Goddamn, will everyone shut up? We'll never get sleep at this rate!"

"Ryou." Bakura sighed, his face flushed and sweaty. He kept his gaze locked firmly on Ryou as he slowly walked across the room, climbing into the soft, large bed. "Come on, calm down."

"This is what I mean." Ryou sobbed. "You can't have any space. Everyone's around and they just want you in line. It doesn't matter if you're upset or angry, they just want you to be quiet. And they're all around, Bakura, they're on all four sides of us, so close, and it's so _suffocating_." Ryou wrapped his arms around himself, sobbing loudly. "I wish they would leave us alone..."

"Don't... Don't cry." Bakura sighed, trying to keep himself calm, their argument apparently forgotten. "It's not that bad, okay? They have a point. It's really late, and I'm kinda tired. And you have school tomorrow. You're gonna be a total zombie for that..."

"I'm not going." Ryou murmured gently, drawing his knees to his chest. "I told you that.. I-I'm n-not g-going back there anymore..." Bakura sighed, momentarily closing his eyes.

"Okay." He muttered. "But you still need rest." He crawled up to the head of the bed, pulling back the blankets. "You're exhausted."

"You're not?" Ryou's voice was hoarse as he lifted his head. "It's been an exhausting day."

"I know." Bakura gently took Ryou's arms, coaxing him to lie down, sandwiched between the blankets. "I know." He repeated in that soothing, somewhat patronizing tone. Ryou sniffed, but complied, his shivering body relaxing as he lay down between the sheets, which were warmed by his electric blanket. "Better?"

"Uhuh." Ryou buried his face in his pillow, sniffling. "Leave the window open." Bakura rolled his eyes, and nodded, fiddling with the zipper on his jeans. He slid them off, accompanied with his boxers, and crawled into the bed, sighing. It _was_ warm and comfortable...

"How come you allow yourself to be so insecure?" Bakura's face was turned to one side as he stared at Ryou, who was still crying weakly. "Come on, you're just overreacting a bit, aren't you?"

"N...No." Ryou sniffed. "I'm not. This place has been suffocating me for so long, Bakura. But you don't care. You never do. Y-You just don't _care_..."

"Don't start crying again." Bakura warned, gritting his teeth. "You know I do. But I can't do anything about it. If I could, I would." Ryou sniffed, shifting slightly so he lay on his side, staring at Bakura.

"R-Really?" He stammered, his lower lip trembling. Bakura rolled his eyes.

"Ryou, nothing would make me happier than taking you out." Bakura muttered, angrily. "Getting us a place in the suburbs, or overseas, or something, but guess what?" Ryou sniffed. "I can't do that. I'm... I'm sorry, but I can't. Not right now."

"You mean..."

"I might, later on." Bakura couldn't look at Ryou. "I just need to sort my shit out." Ryou looked down at the blankets, his lips pressed together grimly.

"I understand." He breathed, his eyes half-lidded. "It'd take a lot of money..."

"You've calmed down a lot." Bakura's hand trembled in the icy air as he gently reached out, touching Ryou's face. "You okay?"

"Mmm..." Ryou closed his eyes. "Do you love me?" Bakura was taken aback slightly, blinking.

"Of course." He didn't even have to think about it. "Of course I love you. Goddamn Ryou. I never stopped. You're just so fucking insecure that whenever I stop reminding you, you think I hate you."

"You always yell at me..." Ryou murmured, sounding close to tears.

"Everyone yells." Bakura muttered. "It's a part of relationships. Just... Don't fly off the deep end like that. I can't take it, and neither can you..." He growled. "And apparently, neither can the neighbours."

"I'm sorry." Ryou's voice was tiny, shaking. Bakura sighed.

"Don't be sorry." He bit his lip. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, you idiot. I should be sorry. You and I both know there's so much more than us to the sex. The last three weeks have certainly proved that..."

"We can if you want." Ryou lifted his head a little more, staring into narrowed blood-brown eyes. "I don't mind..."

"...Nah." Bakura kept running his fingers over Ryou's face. "Lying here... It's... Nice." Ryou smiled widely. "What?"

"It's just not a word you use really often." The whitenette squirmed a little under the blankets. It's cold.

"Come here." Bakura muttered. He easily wrapped his arms around Ryou's waist, drawing the whitenette in close. Ryou sighed, burying his nose and forehead into Bakura.

And that when he realised it didn't really matter. All of the screaming around him and the shoeboxes and the isolation. It was insignificant. Ryou hated it, yes, but it didn't need to have a debilitating effect on him. Because at that moment, snuggled in Bakura's arms, on the verge of a deep peaceful sleep, where he didn't have to be scared, confused, or angry, no matter how messed up he was, it didn't matter at all.

As long as he had Bakura's love and attention... Nothing really mattered.

* * *

Yay! It's all fucked up and stuff! Hehehe.

R&R!!!


	13. Shades Of Grey

YAY ONESHOT!

Happy birthday Ryou, Happy birthday Ryou...

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't own the equation, either. Can you own it?

* * *

_Ryou was always good with Maths._

_Ever since he arrived at Domino High, Ryou had been getting extremely high marks, second to only that of Seto Kaiba. He'd even been put up a year, and still got the same high marks. All of his teachers questioned him on this, especially since he was barely passing in most of his other subjects. Ryou always tilted his head to the side when he was asked this question, and said the same thing, every time:_

_"I just… Like it, I suppose."_

_Ryou did like Maths._

_And yes, his love of Maths did give him a nerdy-sounding personality, especially when it was coupled with his love of RPG games, but Ryou was far from a nerd. He never told a single soul exactly why he loved Maths so much. It was never a second nature to him at all. Ryou had to work hard at it. He worked for hours every night, slumped over his desk, his pen scratching over the paper, his brow furrowed deep in thought._

_Despite it's difficulty to solve, in the long run, Maths was so easy._

_Ryou hated English. He hated pulling novels and poems to bits, and writing about language devices, characters, and theme, paragraph after paragraph. Biology was awful, memorizing all of the different species, and writing about their environment. History made his head hurt, reading all of those passages from the text books, and writing about them. Because History never had a clear answer._

_Not like Maths._

_Maths was black and white._

_You were either wrong, or right. There was no grey._

_Maths was easy._

* * *

"Yadonushi."

Ryou froze at the cold, harsh voice, grating on his ears like a tin can. He closed his eyes and bit on his lower lip hard.

"B-Bakura-sama." Ryou tried to keep his voice as low and meek as he could. He opened his chocolate eyes again, keeping his gaze fixated on the paper in front of him.

_A triangle with sides that can be written in the form of n²+1, n² - 1 and 2n (Where n 1) is right angled._

_Show by means of a counter example, that the converse is false._

"You're peddling with your foolish numbers again, aren't you?" Ryou's slim, bony fingers tightened on the pen, and he blinked rapidly as the saline water started pushing at the back of his eyes.

"I-It's homework, Bakura-sama." Ryou whispered, his voice barely above breathing. Ryou continued to stare down at the question. He didn't look at Bakura, who leaned against the doorframe. The whitenette licked his lips nervously, before starting to scratch out the answer.

_n² + 1 – 2n (n - 1)²_

"Pitiful." The demon snorted, crossing his arms. He glared at the hunched form of Ryou in contempt. "You sit in your room for hours, trying to sort out those pathetic numbers and symbols in your head. What are you trying to prove, Yadonushi?" Ryou's heart froze in his ribcage as Bakura started padding across the room, his bare feet making almost no sound on the threadbare carpet.

"I-It's just Maths." Ryou breathed, gripping the pen like a lifeline. _Go away, go away, go away, go away_... The numbers were wavy on the page; Ryou's hand shook as he wrote.

_If n 1 Then (n – 1)² 0_

"Why do you obsess about it?" Bakura's shadow fell over the page as he stared at the sheet, over Ryou's shoulder. The jumbled numbers on the paper made absolutely no sense to Bakura, and it irritated him endlessly. "Do you think it means something?"

"I-It's just Maths." Ryou repeated, blinking furiously. "P-Please, Bakura-sama I have to do this question and it's really hard…" He tried to concentrate on the numbers in front of him, his hand shaking.

_Therefore n² + 1 – 2n 0_

"Put your pen down and look at me." Bakura snarled, his strong hands gripping the back of the chair. Ryou froze, and his fingers froze around the pen.

"N-No." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I-I don't want to look at you." He felt near tears, but blinked them away, and continued to shakily write out the equation, his heart thudding like a drum in his chest.

_Therefore n² + 1 2n_

"But I want to look at _you._" Ryou closed his eyes as Bakura whispered the words cruelly in his ear. Ryou bit on his lip hard, suppressing the urge to sob.

"Don't touch me." Ryou breathed, feeling sick. "Y-You're sick, Bakura-sama. You're a sick pervert." He looked back down at his sheet, trying so hard to keep struggling through the Maths.

_Similarly, (n² + 1) (n² - 1) 2_

"Explain." Bakura growled, a snarl creasing the bridge of his nose. Ryou bit down on his lip harder, whimpering softly. He gasped as a taloned hand gripped his shoulder tightly, and closed his eyes.

"I-I…" Ryou tried to keep his voice steady. "T-Two nights ago…" He shrunk away from the hand. "You came into bed really late. I couldn't sleep, but pretended to s-so you wouldn't be mad at me. You were so close… You wrapped your arms around my waist, a-and then you started sliding my shirt up and touching my stomach." Ryou's voice broke, and he gave an odd hiccup. "A-And th-then you st-started kissing the back of my neck…" The pen slipped from Ryou's fingers and he buried his face in his hands, shaking madly. "Y-You… You…"

"You were awake?" Bakura stood up straight, removing his hand from Ryou's shoulder. The whitenette whimpered, and nodded, trying his hardest to curl into himself and away from the yami.

"Yes." Ryou breathed, shaking. It had terrified the light to no end. "H-How c-could you… _Why?" _He was close to hyperventilating as he tried to hunch himself away from Bakura, but failing miserably.

"Because." Ryou's eyes widened when he felt Bakura grab the back of the chair. He squeaked, but wasn't quick enough. The yami twirled the chair around, which was balancing on one leg, then looked Ryou straight in the eye. The whitenette gasped, and looked away, choosing instead to stare back at his Maths work. Bakura growled, and angered by the lights move, and chose to sweep the equipment off of the table. Ryou cried out as his papers, pens, and books tumbled to the floor, and bit his lip.

"Look at me." Bakura heaved in his harsh voice. Ryou kept his eyes downcast, shaking. The yami snarled, and extended a pale, clawlike hand. He grasped Ryou's face cruelly, handling his jawbone with his bony fingers. The whitenette flinched, feeling those sharp nails dig into his skin painfully. There were going to be bruises on his face tomorrow… Ryou gasped as Bakura dug in his nails even harder, this time drawing blood. _"Look at me._" In his fear, Ryou opened his eyes. He looked up to Bakura, his chin trembling. He stared at those narrowed, wine coloured eyes, his heart thudding in his chest.

"Don't." Ryou pleaded, shying away from the yami, closing his eyes. Bakura froze, his eyebrows creasing in a heavy frown. He simply pulled Ryou's face closer to him, closing his eyes. Ryou was as still as a statue, tears glistening in his eyes as he felt Bakura's nose brush his cheek, sending tingles of electricity down his spine. Ryou felt Bakura's nose drift down until he was underneath the whitenette's earlobe. The teenager yelped as Bakura bit down on the soft skin in the juncture of his neck, feeling those tears start to trickle down his cheeks. Bakura only bit the skin gently, but blood still flowed from the teen's neck. He used his tongue to lick at the sweet, coppery substance, Ryou shaking beneath him, starting to sob.

"Get off me." Ryou managed to whisper, his breath halting in his throat. "Stop…" Bakura gently kissed the broken skin which had stopped bleeding, and lifted his face a couple of inches, until his lips were over Ryou's ear.

"_You _stop." He hissed, one hand on Ryou's jaw, the other gripping the back of the chair. Ryou moaned, trembling.

"Stop what?" He breathed, his eyes closed. Bakura snarled, and drew his head back a little from the whitenette's face, staring at those closed eyelids.

"You're fucking numbers." He seethed, his stale breath washing over Ryou. Fresh tears spilled down the whitenette's cheeks, trickling onto Bakura's hand.

"No." Ryou gasped, shaking his head from side to side, just a little. "I-I c-can't…"

"You _will."_ Bakura growled, staring at those plump, pink lips that were slightly parted…

"It's all I have." Ryou pleaded in a whisper, daring to open his eyelids a crack. "Maths is all I have…"

"Is that all you are?" Bakura's voice was harsh, grating unpleasantly on Ryou's ears. "A machine that processes numbers? Is that all you are, Yadonushi?"

"No." Ryou whispered. Bakura only raised an eyebrow. The teenager whimpered, starting to hiccup through his sobs. "I-I'm…" He felt Bakura's hands tighten on his jaw even further. It felt like it was going to snap in two any moment… "I'm your host." The grip relaxed, just a little bit.

"You don't need your numbers." Bakura growled. "And you will no longer practice them. Do you understand, Yadonushi?"

"No…" Ryou moaned, shaking his head.

"I'm going to burn your books. If you ever bring anything with those numbers and equations on them inside my house, I'll burn _her." _Ryou froze.

His photos and letters.

He _wouldn't!_

"You can't…" Ryou pleaded, starting to sob. Bakura growled, and stood up. He still had a strong grip on Ryou's jaw, and the movement forced the teenager out of his seat. Bakura easily tossed Ryou to the floor, the white-haired teenager crying out as he tumbled to the carpet, starting to cry.

"I can." Bakura looked down at Ryou, who was sobbing as he tried to pick himself up. "And I do believe I just have." Ryou rested on all fours, his head bowed and eyes closed.

"Why?" He gasped, looking up at Bakura. The yami's hands were on his hips as he stared down at the teen, biting his lip. He couldn't help it- The way Ryou was looking right then, on his hands and knees, his face turned up to Bakura…

"Because I said so." Bakura turned away from the teenager, crossing his arms. Ryou was frowning as he leaned back on his folded knees, his eyes fixated on his clenched hands.

"Because it's all I have." Ryou whispered, fresh tears stinging his eyes. "Because you can't stand me to be happy at all. Because all you want is to _break_ me-"

"Shut up!" Bakura whirled around, and without thinking, hurled his foot into Ryou's chest. The whitenette screamed as several ribs cracked, and doubled over, coughing and choking. His palms were on the floor as he sobbed, his shoulder heaving in agony. "How _dare_ you speak to me like that, Yadonushi." He seethed, glaring at the trembling form. "Do you not know your position?"

"How can I forget?" Ryou whispered. "You remind me every day. I'm nothing. I'm a shell. I only exist in case you lose the form you have now. I'm just a body."

"Exactly." Bakura snarled, bending down to leer in Ryou's ear. "Just a pathetic little human. _My_ human. I can do with you as I wish. If I want to stop you from working with your numbers, I am allowed to. If I want to touch you, I am allowed to. If I want to kiss you, I am allowed to."

"What-" Ryou's heart stopped as Bakura grabbed at his hair, forcing his chin up and pressing his lips against the lighter male. Ryou gasped in shock, and Bakura used the opportunity to thrust his tongue inside Ryou's soft, sweet mouth, gripping onto his long white tresses even tighter. Ryou was crying, beating his bony little fists against the yami furiously, but to no avail. Bakura was just too strong. The spirit bit back a moan as his tongue probed Ryou's sweet mouth, his other hand tightly gripping Ryou's wrists. It was _exactly _like he had imagined it. How many times had he lain there, awake in bed at night, leaning over to watch Ryou sleep? He'd fantasized about kissing Ryou, touching all of his bare skin so _much_. And rather than being sweet and gentle to Ryou, who would more than likely give himself to Bakura without a moments notice, Bakura wanted –needed- to take it from Ryou, roughly, and without any mercy or kindness.

"And if I want to _take_ you," Bakura continued as he freed his hold on Ryou's lips, his chest heaving slightly. "Then I am allowed to, aren't I?" It was a sick thing really, that the words made Bakura's insides grow all warm and… fuzzy. Ryou shook his head, moaning weakly, his wrists still in Bakura's grasp. The yami shifted his position, moving his hands from Ryou's hair, up his spine, and to the back of his warm, silky neck. He smiled down at the broken, sobbing teen in his arms, his ribs fractured and face bruised. "And you know what?" Ryou was gasping for air, sandwiched tightly against Bakura's lean body, putting more pressure on his cracked ribs until he thought he might pass out from the almost paralyzing pain, terrified his splintered bones could break completely, and worse, puncture something.

"S-Stop…" Ryou choked out, tears leaking out of his eyes. "Y-Yami…"

"Shhhh…" There was no love in Bakura's eyes as he pressed a finger to Ryou's lips. Only crazed lust and sadism. "You never let me finish, Yadonushi." He smirked, in a teasing sing-song. "You know what?"

"Wh-What?" Ryou coughed out, sobbing weakly, defeated. Bakura's sadistic smile grew.

"There's not a single thing you can do about it now, is there?"

* * *

Awwwhhh angsteh XD

R&R!


	14. The Right Choice

Holy shit I actually wrote another oneshot!

But this one is so freaking LONG. I mean... Gah.

I know a lot of people have reservations about fics that take place at the end of the series. This was just an idea - it isn't a theory or an idea, or anything. It was just... Something that sorta popped into my head. So no one like, flame me and go all 'omg you got is so wrong how could you!!11!1'

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, a couple of shit characters and stuff but WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO HUH!?

Seriously. Don't sue me.

* * *

_Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision._

_Usually, this 'wondering' occurs at some ungodly hour of the night, when I'm lying awake in bed, staring at the way shadows play against the peeling grey wall paper, listening to the heavy English rain pattering against the windows._

_But confusion and fear, and the crushing sense of loneliness can attack at any given time, day or night. On the bus, at the supermarket, on the street, the shrink... It's like I'm shell shocked. I suppose I am, really. I was – am – emotionally and psychologically traumatised after it happened._

_And the worst part is there's no one to blame, but myself._

_I chose to betray Yugi and the others. I chose to put Bakura first, to do his bidding. I chose to reject their friendship for Bakura's..._

_Bakura's..._

_It is even called love?_

_Looking back, I don't think it was. If it was love he wouldn't have hurt me the way he did._

_If I knew what I did now, that Bakura only wanted my compliance, that he never actually cared about me, and was only manipulating my devotion, turning it into something he cold use to get what he wanted, would I have still done it?_

_In the end, all we had was a few weeks 'together', before Bakura got cocky and called the Memory game. For those few weeks I sacrificed my education, my friends, my home, my father..._

_Was it worth it?_

_..._

_Yes, it was. And I know how selfish, self-centred and horrible that sounds. But it was, to me. _

* * *

Ryou awakes from a fitful sleep a few minutes before ten. He'd finally managed to sink into a fitful slumber just after sunrise – or at least, what could be seen of it through the English rain – and was awoken startlingly from a truck honking on the street below him.

Ryou arches his back in a yawn, stretching, before rubbing sleepily at his eyes, and heaving himself out of the sagging single mattress and shuffling across the bare wooden floors. In the bathroom, Ryou takes out the box of anti-depressants from the bathroom cabinet, staring at the squat blue writing. After a few moments of hesitation, he downs two pills with half a glass of water.

He knows he shouldn't take two, but one alone isn't working.

* * *

"Good morning."

"Mmm."

His hair is out of place as he sits on the blue folding chair, in front of a cool-looking young woman, who's gaze is focused on a computer monitor.

"All right... Have you got a form of I.D for me?" As Ryou throws his British passport down on the oak-coloured veneer, the woman pulls out an A4 sized sheet of paper, slowly starting to fill it out with a blue biro. She opens his passport, flicking through the Japanese, English, and Arabic lettering, a record of Ryou's travels, to the back page, where Ryou's I.D is located. In the picture, he is twelve. He is not smiling. The haunting brown eyes of the young boy sends a chill down the womans' spine. "Thank you." She sets down the passport without looking at it again, and signs a dotted line at the bottom. "There you go." Ryou doesn't nod, taking his passport and the piece of paper. He keeps his eyes on the carpet, away from the sheet in the hand. He has seen it many times before.

It is a food voucher, worth forty pounds, redeemable only at the Sainsbury's four blocks down from his apartment.

* * *

He hovers in the bakery section, staring at a six-pack of jelly filled doughnuts. They are on special, one-pound-fifty, and would do enough for a couple of meals. The plastic basket dangles off his left arm, containing a pack of sausages, a carton of milk, a loaf of white bread, four cups of ramen, a kilogram of sugar, a packet of frozen peas, a macaroni meal in a carton, and a half a kilo of frozen French fries. It is very heavy on his skinny little arm. He still has to buy some peanut butter, soap, garbage bags, dishwashing liquid, and potato crisps, amongst other things.

Ryou vicariously stacks the thin plastic container atop the frozen peas, and turns towards the Health and Hygiene aisle, his extremely worn trainers squeaking on the white linoleum.

* * *

The bus is crowded.

Ryou bits his lip, and looks down at his shoes, clinging tightly to three plastic bags. He is jostled slightly, as he steps on to the bus, digging around in his pocket for change. He knows it is just a short walk, but feels too tired. Instead, sixty-pence is dropped into the round plastic dish.

Ryou manages to find a seat, pressing himself against the window. His food rests on his lap, which he encircles with bony arms. He reads the label on the back of his cereal.

If he distracts himself enough, he can banish Bakura's face from his mind.

* * *

"Hi Ryou."

The twenty-year-old drops down onto the couch, one hand clutching the angular cream receiver. The other picks absentmindedly at a hole in the faded upholstery.

"Hi." His voice sounds raspy, unused. He winces, and clears his throat.

"I'm coming to your neighbourhood to see a friend." There is a tremor in the womans' voice. Ryou knows the 'friend' she is referring to. "Can you watch Amane for a couple of hours?"

"... Okay." Ryou obeys, feeling neither happy, nor sad at the prospect. "Do I have to make lunch?"

"That would help." She sounds grateful. "Thanks Ryou."

"She's my daughter." Ryou's voice is shockingly flat. "I have to watch her sometimes."

* * *

He has five pounds to buy her a toy.

It is a luxury, he knows, and doubtlessly, he will regret it later, but Ryou also feels it as his duty as a father.

He wanders the girls' section, self-worth dropping as the prices grew. He finally settled on a small pink plastic pony, with a flowing mane of sparkly purple. There is a brush to match, and some multi-coloured ribbons. He is unsure if his daughter likes horses, but settles on the pony anyway.

It is eight pounds. Ryou stares down at his shoes, shoulders slumping. New trainers would have to wait another week.

* * *

Every time he sees her, Ryou realises how increasingly similar Amane looks to her dead Auntie. She shares her likeness's nose, chin, and face shape. But her big, haunting brown eyes are a plain tribute to Ryou. And her long, blonde curls belong to her mother.

"I'll pick her up at three." A worn-looking young woman sets down the little girl, who stares up at her father with solemn, brown eyes.

"I have to see the doctor at three-thirty." Ryou's voice trembles slightly.

"You sick?" She takes a drag of her cigarette, smoke curling lazily in the air, before fragmenting, dispersing.

"The anti-depressants aren't strong enough." Ryou watches the smoke, the familiar ache rising through him. He is trying to quit.

"Oh." The girl brushes hair out of eyes. Hair she has dyed an even brighter shade of blonde, and straightens daily, the ends frayed and split. "... What if they chuck you away?" She has to ask, for her daughters' sake. The recently attained knowledge that mental disorders can be genetic has frightened her.

"Probably will." Ryou shrugs, listless. Sometimes he thinks that a psych. ward would be a better option than sitting around a shoebox apartment day in, day out, on welfare, unable to work, drive a car, or drink alcohol.

"She's got it." The girl flicks the ash onto the hallway carpet, jerking her head down towards Amane. "She's not right, Ryou."

"She's fine." Ryou's hands curl into fists. He knows she isn't, he understands the turbulence whirling behind his daughters' wide brown eyes, but he couldn't stand admitting it to himself, or anyone. He wants to put it off as long as possible. Besides, no one could help a three-year-old, not properly.

"Ryou, she-"

"Don't you have a client to fuck?" Ryou overrides the girl he shared just one night with, teeth gritted. Opposite him, the blonde is smouldering.

"_Fuck_ you." She hisses narrowing her eyes, which are thickly rimmed in goopy black eyeliner. "At least I'm _working_." Ryou merely shrugs, not rising to the bait. He doesn't care what the girl says – she doesn't understand. The only person in the world who really understood Ryou's mental turmoil lives in Egypt with his adopted brother.

"Whatever." He sighs, and reaches forward, taking Amane's hand. The wrist is very thin. Ryou feels sick. "You're not feeding her enough."

"I'm _trying_." The girls' voice catches in her throat. "Ryou, I can't look after her anymore, I-"

"I can't take her." It breaks Ryou's heart to say it, it really does. But he knows he can't even look after himself, let alone a small child with such a fragile psyche. "I thought your sister-"

"Her boyfriend doesn't want her in the house." The girl turns. "I'll be back later." Ryou pulls Amane in, and closes the door. He notices Amane is crying, tears rolling down rounded, pale cheeks.

"I don't like my Aunty." She whimpers in her soft, high little voice. "I don't wanna stay with her..."

"You won't, honey." Although his weakened arms strained with the effort, Ryou lifts the little girl in his arms. She buries her nose in his neck. He feels bad for making Amane watch her parents fight. "Do you want some lunch? I have jelly filled doughnuts."

A little head of blonde curls nods.

* * *

"Hello, Doctor Woodhaven."

"Ah, Ryou! I was wondering why you're so late..."

"I have Amane." Ryou stares at the little girl, who is sitting on the threadbare rug, beside the tiny electric heater. She is combing the pony's glittery hair.

"Where's her mother? I really wanted to see you, Ryou. You missed out last week, too..."

"I know. I'm sorry." Ryou sighs, and looks at the clock that hangs over the television. It is quarter-past-four. "I don't know where she is."

"All right." There is a long sigh on the other end. "Ryou... Is there anything that you wanted to talk about at all? We need to have a discussion."

"... Yes, there was." Ryou lowers his voice. He doesn't want his daughter to hear. "I'm having sleeping troubles again. I haven't been able to get to sleep before three for the past week. And I'm still getting anxiety attacks. I need my dosage increased."

"Ryou... I'm not sure I can do that. Medication gets to a point where if you have to take so much of it, then a psychiatric ward is recommended. You are very, very close to that point, Ryou."

"I know." Ryou traces a shapeless pattern on the arm of the sofa. "And doc... Um..."

"Yes? What is it?"

"Last Saturday... I bought a bottle of arsenic. I wanted to take it. I poured half of it into a glass and everything." He doesn't want to admit to this most recent contemplation of suicide, but he knows that he cannot keep it bottled up. On the other end of the phone, there is a long, long sigh.

"Ryou... I'm going to pencil you in for an appointment with me first thing tomorrow morning. I want you in my office at eight o'clock sharp. No excuses."

"All right." Something unpleasant squirms in Ryou's stomach, and he stares down at his hand. "I'll see you then."

Amane imitated the sound of a horse neighing.

* * *

It is eleven o'clock when Ryou hears the sound of a firm knocking at his door. Amane is asleep in his bed, one hand tightly clutching her newest toy, aptly named 'Princess'.

Ryou is watching a rerun of _Midsomer Murders_. He sighs, and stands up, trying to stretch out a cramp in his lower back. Slowly, he turns the door, expecting to see the mother of his child standing on the threshold, full of excuses, and perhaps haughty words about some customers being trouble.

"Ryou Bakura?" Ryou's breath catches in his throat at the sight of a policeman at his front door, and the uttering of _Bakura_ only heightens his sense of instability. He pulls the door open, and lets the tall man step in. The policeman takes off his hat.

"I understand you are the father of Amane Bakura?" Ryou nods, something growing cold in his stomach. Subconsciously, he has put two-and-two together, but he doesn't want to believe the worst. "Once-partner of Adriana Willowpark?" Amane's mother.

"Yes." Ryou's voice is shaking, and he stares at his closed bedroom door. There is sadness in the mans' eyes.

"I'm so sorry for your loss." Ryou closes his eyes, hanging onto the doorknob for support. He never particularly liked the girl – if it wasn't for Amane, she would have been out of his life the morning after the horrible, wonderful night of alcohol, drugs, and lust, that ended in Amane's conception – but never wished her dead. "We found Adriana's body in... In a dumpster in Southampton at about six o'clock. Her sister Elizabeth has formally identified the body. I understand that you have current guardianship of Amane?"

"Yes." Ryou whispers. Sympathetically, the policeman pulls out a wobbling chair from the card table, and takes Ryou's shoulders, guiding him to the seat. "Sh-She's asleep..."

"Ah." The policeman sighs. "Ryou, you were the last person to see Adriana alive, so I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you down to the station for formal questioning."

"But Amane... Who can watch her?" Ryou is distraught, his mind whirling in a million directions. "... I know it sounds unorthodox, but can she come with me?"

"I... But she is asleep..."

"No, she's not." Ryou manages to stand up, and shakily makes his way across the tiny room, opening the bedroom door. In an old shirt of Ryou's of blue and white stripes, a makeshift nightgown, Amane stands in the doorway. Her cheeks are streaked with tears. She knows. Ryou's stomach grows colder. Three years old, and his daughter understood the concept of death. He wondered what she could see.

"Mum." She managed to gasp, before flinging herself into Ryou's open arms, dissolving into inconsolable sobs.

* * *

Ryou is finally able to watch the sunrise.

To the east, the sky was clear... Ish. Brilliant beams of gold and orange brushed the heavy grey clouds, which had withdrawn, retreating into the cool violet of the fading night sky. In Ryou's arms, his daughter slept, blonde curls tangled and matted, eyes red and swollen. She refused to let anyone but Ryou touch her, not even the Care officer, to agreed to watch Amane at home whilst Ryou was answering questions in the station. She screamed and kicked when they tried to split the Bakura's apart, clinging to Ryou's shirt like a limpet, sobbing uncontrollably.

Ryou didn't cry. He has had enough of crying. Instead, the feeling of dull emptiness he had constantly experienced since Bakura's death had increased a little. And he is full of worries, and fear. He knows he is incapable of looking after Amane. Ryou, who spends hours of every day staring into space, has panic attacks at random moments in life where he cannot breathe or speak, can't sleep properly, and goes through his day like a zombie on sedatives, could never take care of a three-year-old.

Ryou's father hates him. Ever since he found about Ryou's true sexuality, his relationship with a male, he disowned his son, cutting off all familial, emotional, and financial ties to Ryou. He hadn't even seen Amane yet. Ryou sent him some photographs of his granddaughter in the hospital, the day she was born, but they were returned to him, unopened.

Adriana's sister, Elizabeth, is just eighteen. She has a job as a receptionist at a used car dealership. She has a serious boyfriend. There is no way she would take on the responsibilities of a child. And Ryou couldn't put the burden on her. It is unreasonable.

Adriana's parents are dead. Ryou has no other relatives, save his disowning father. Ryou has no friends, no acquaintances, even. Adriana's friends were all prostitutes and crackheads. There was no way Ryou trusted his child to any of them.

Ryou didn't trust foster care. Not after his brief stay as a child, when, after the death of his mother and sister, Ryou's father was struck with depression so severe he was unable to take care of his remaining child. Ryou was beaten, and abused severely in the 'Home' that he stayed in for a few endless months, and still carries unspoken, horrific internal scars from his terrifying ordeal.

There is no option. Ryou looks down at the sleeping child, one hand entwined tightly with her fathers'. He has to try.

* * *

"God Ryou, you look awful."

"Adriana was killed last night." Amane is sitting in the waiting room, staring at a few sheets of paper and a handful of crayons that have been laid out for her, unmoving. The door is open a crack, in case she wants to come in. Woodhaven looks at Ryou over his spectacles.

"Did you sleep?" Ryou shakes his head. The doctor sighs, and writes something down on his clipboard. "Can you take off your shoes and step on the scales for me?" He points to the corner of the room. Ryou nods, kick off his fraying trainers, and pads across the shag pile in once-white socks. Woodhaven stands up as Ryou gets on the scales, and comes up behind Ryou to take note of the figure.

"Forty-six kilograms." It is a frightening number. "Ryou, you've lost two kilos since I've seen you last." Ryou shrugs hopelessly, and sits back down in the seat. He curls up in the arm chair, wrapping his arms around his legs. It is no secret – Woodhaven is clearly worried about his youngest patient.

"There's no one else to look after Amane." Ryou swallows, and stares at the ground. "O-Otherwise, I-I would go to a psych. unit..."

"No friends or family?" Ryou shakes his head hopelessly, his eyes stinging for the first time in years. "What about foster care-"

"_NO!" _Ryou shouts out, eyes widening. "H-how could you say that! You _know_ what they did to me! There's no way I'm putting her through that!"

"... What about your emotional bond?" Woodhaven wrote another note on his board. "Ryou... Are you not at all upset about the prospect of letting her go?"

"I-I don't know..." Ryou breaths, the burning in his eyes increasing. "I can't... It's like I can't feel anything. E-Everything is just so completely... Numb."

"... Okay." Woodhaven sets his clipboard down, and surveys the twenty-year-old man in front of him. "Ryou, look at yourself."

"I-I know, I-"

"No. I want you to actually step back and take a look at yourself." The man says gently. "You're coming apart, Ryou. You're slowly breaking down. You're not in a state to look after yourself, let alone your daughter."

"B-But I have to!" Ryou's breath is catching in his throat, which seems stuck with a big lump. "N-No one else is able to do it... I-I have to look after her. I'm her father!"

"Ryou." Woodhaven sighs. "Do you _love _her?" Ryou sniffs, and looks at his doctor.

"Yes, I do... I think." Ryou lowers his gaze to his hands. "I don't even know what love is anymore. But, whatever it is... It's what I'm feeling for Amane. It's just under a lot of stuff. But it's there. I swear it is."

"Ryou... it doesn't matter if you're her father or not. If you don't love her, then having her stay with you... it's cruel. She needs love."

"I-I will love her. I do love her." Ryou's vision is wobbling. His heart thuds in his chest, of fear, misery, and a deep, undeterminable, ancient, agony. "I-I just... oh God, I need _Bakura_." Ryou breaks down into sobs, crying for the first time in years. The doctor watches, perfectly still, as Ryou rests his head in folded arms, gasping for air as he sobs. His fingers are curled into the thin fabric of his shirt. A few moments later, the door creaks as it is slowly pushed open, and a thin figure dressed in shades of pastel pink runs across the room, and painstakingly climbs into the armchair, beside Ryou. Amane wraps her little arms around Ryou's neck, standing up to do so. Woodhaven closes his eyes for a moment. Finally, Ryou is able to control his tears, and he lifts his head, feet flat on the floor again. Amane curls up in his lap. The doctor continues as if nothing has happened.

"I'm going to write you a prescription for stronger anti-depressants." Woodhaven rubs at his temples. "I am going to give you a month. In one month, if you haven't gotten yourself into a state where you can look after yourself and Amane, then I'm putting you in a psych. ward, and Amane will go into foster care." Ryou is still for a long moment, then nods, gripping the little girl in his lap life a lifeline.

"Your three-year-old daughter cannot be the one to console you Ryou." The man said sternly. "You have to get a grip on reality, before you lose yourself completely."

* * *

"I want to go to the park."

Ryou lifts his head up from the cushion, and sighs. Amane looks up from her doll, that her mother had bought for her just a month before, hopefully.

"Later." Ryou mumbles, burying his head back into the couch cushion. He pulls the blanket up higher around himself. So this is what it was like to feel totally empty.

And yet, Ryou still feels no pity for himself. He's backed himself up against the edge of a giant cliff, making some irreparable choices, leaving him almost insane with grief, depression, and loneliness.

And right now, the mere memory of Bakura seems enough to push him over.

* * *

"Are you hungry?"

Ryou pulls open the fridge door as a little blonde mop of curls nods eagerly. Bleary-eyed, he stares at it's contents. Nothing. Nothing Amane could eat, anyways. Time to use a last resort. "How about a jelly doughnut?"

"For _dinner?_" Her high little voice rises a whole octave in delight. Ryou nods, and pulls out the last doughnut, tipping it unceremoniously onto a plastic plate. He hands the plate to Amane, who takes it eagerly, and runs to the little 'tea party' she has set up. Ryou leans against the fridge door, fighting back tears.

Ryou wants to crawl into the oven, turn it on high, and shut the door.

* * *

"Good... Oh."

"Yes." Ryou sits down, pulls Amane onto his lap. The little girl rests into his collarbone, staring at a point in the universe no one else could apparently see. "Her um... Her mother passed, a week ago. I was wondering... There must be like, a child support, or an increased benefit or allowance I could get from this... I have all her documents, birth certificate and stuff. I can prove I'm the father."

"No, that's okay." She was certainly her fathers son – she had those horrible wide brown eyes, that expressed more emotions that one could think possible. "But I will need her birth certificate. Have you got the mothers death certificate?" Ryou shakes his head. "All right. I can get a copy." The man nodded, wrapping his arms around Amane's lap. "Um, I can put you on the waiting list for another state house if you're after something bigger..."

"A flat with two bedrooms would be nice." Ryou said gratefully, sounding bland, disjointed. His eyes seemed out of focus.

"Um, I can sign you up for an added child support allowance, Ryou, but that'll only give you an extra twenty pounds a week."

"All right." Ryou's voice sounds flat, a monotone.

"And If I'm correct, your food voucher will be increased to fifty pounds."

"All right." Ryou repeats. He feels numb to everything the woman is saying.

It would terrify him, if he could feel it.

* * *

Amane's screaming wakes Ryou up.

The high, frightened sound fills Ryou's hears, from the lounge, and he springs out of bed, stumbling over the floorboards as he pushes open the bedroom door, eyes swivelling to the bed set up in the corner of the lounge. Amane is buried under the covers, visibly trembling.

"Amane, honey..." Ryou approaches the bed. He thinks that it is a nightmare. "What's wrong?"

"D-Dad!" Amane's voice is muffled. She refuses to leave the safety of her blankets. "Help!"

"Amane, what's going on?" He doesn't know what to do, and places a hand on the little lump under the covers. She is shaking harder than ever.

"Make him go away!" Amane screams tearfully. Ryou blinks, and looks around. No one is in the room, apart from them.

"No one's here." Ryou pulls at the covers. "Amane, you had a nightmare." A little blonde-topped head peels out at him. Tears are running down Amane's cheeks.

"No." She shakes her head resolutely. "I-I saw someone in a dream over my bed... I-I woke up and he was still there..."

"You could see something?" Ryou's heart beats a little faster in panic, and he casts a look to the window, and the door. The girl shakes her head again, frustrated.

"No... I _felt_ him." Her lower lip trembles, and she buries her face into Ryou's shirt. "S-Standing over the bed... I-It was so scary..."

He still believes that it is a nightmare. He doesn't understand how sensitive his daughter is, how much of her fathers spiritual intuition she has inherited.

* * *

It is exactly fourteen days since the death of Adriana.

Amane is watching a preschool show on the television, sunlight streaming through the windows. Ryou is asleep, taking an afternoon nap. He now takes a lot of naps, sometimes for over an hour. Amane doesn't mind, however. She likes to sit by herself in the quiet. She likes to listen to things, things that other people cannot hear.

Someone has knocked at the door. Still in her pyjamas (Ryou said that at 'home days', Amane can wear her pyjamas all day. It delights her), the blonde bounded across the room, and stood on her tip-toes to open the door.

"Hello?" She asks, somewhat breathlessly as she manages to successfully open the door. The strangest man she has ever seen stands upon the threshold. She cannot stop staring at his hair.

Yugi's breath catches in his throat as he stares at the little girl who has just greeted him. It is obvious, in her face and skin, and _eyes_, that she is Ryou's child. How is it possible, that Ryou already has a baby girl, at his age? He could not yet be twenty-one.

"Hello." He catches himself, and smiles. "My name is Yugi. I'm here to see your Dad. Is he home?"

"Yup." She nodded, blonde curls, that Ryou will absentmindedly twist around his finger while she is asleep, bouncing. "But he's having a nap right now, sorry..."

"Well, can you wake him up please?" Yugi asked politely. She is a little darling, he thinks, as she nods reluctantly, and runs across the room, pulling open the door that leads into the bedroom and slipping in. Yugi closes the door behind himself, and sighs. This is what Ryou Bakura has become. The flat is small, the main room managing to contain a kitchen, a card table with a few chairs, and a couch and television. In the corner, a bed has been set up, with a pale pink coverlet. The scene is sad, and Yugi's insides twist with guilt. This is partly his fault.

"Amane, can you slow down your talking? What do you mean, weird hair? I- _Oh god."_

"H-Hi, Ryou." Yugi smiles weakly, as Ryou stops still, holding his hands over his mouth. Tears swim in Ryou's eyes, and before he can damn the floor, he bursts into tears, shoulders shaking, as all the memories, the pain and heartache and betrayal, comes rushing back like an awful wave of despair.

"Hey! Don't make Daddy cry." Amane pouts, a frown on her cute features.

"I'm sorry." Yugi apologizes, before rushing to Ryou's side, able to take his appearance in detail. There is no way about it – Ryou looks absolutely awful. Despite his copious amounts of sleep, dark rings circle under Ryou's eyes, and the skin underneath is baggy, and wrinkled. His cheeks are hollow, and Yugi can see that Ryou's arms are far too thin to be healthy. There is no colour in Ryou's cheeks. "Ryou... Please, stop crying..."

"H-How did you find me?" Ryou sniffs, finally able to have some control over his tears. "I-I don't understand... Why are you here? Please don't yell at me..."

"I'm not going to yell." Yugi decides to set Ryou down on the couch. The white-haired man does so, shaking madly. "I just... I thought that we should talk."

"It's been four years." Ryou sniffed pathetically, his eyes still leaking, nose red and stuffy. "Wh-What is there to say? Y-You hate me..."

"No." Yugi shuffles in his seat, uneasy with the little girl watching him intently, mistrustfully.

"Amane." Ryou saves the other man. "How about you take your dolls and play in my room for a little while okay?" There is a tone, something in Ryou's voice, and Amane nods silently, and collects up her favourite toys, taking them into the bedroom, and shutting the door.

"Why are you here, Yugi?" Ryou asks again, wanting to get down to the nitty gritty. It is so shocking, so surprising, and unexpected, to see Yugi turn up on his doorstep.

"I... I wanted to talk to you." Yugi murmurs, staring down at his folded hands. "Ryou, I never wanted to abandon you. Even when I found out that you only pretended to be our friend because it was what the Spirit of the Ring wanted."

"I wasn't pretending." Ryou interjects, half pleadingly, half stubbornly. "I liked you, Yugi. I really did want to be your friend, Puzzle or not..."

"I know that." Yugi sighs. "Look, let me explain. It was ignorance, more than anything. I was unable to comprehend why you would want to risk anything for someone so evil. I didn't understand that you were in love with him. If I knew that you felt so strongly for him, I would have argued in your defence. I really would have, Ryou."

"Th-Thanks." Ryou sniffs weakly, his heart lightening, just a little. Words will not bring Bakura back. "I appreciate it."

"Losing Atemu was the worst pain I've ever been through." Yugi's voice catches in his throat, and his knuckles are white. "Worse than losing my father. Worse than everything else I have encountered. When he passed... I felt like a part of my soul, my being, had been ripped out, and I would never be whole again, until he returned."

"That's how I felt." Ryou's voice is hoarse. "Feel."

"And then... When I was able to think past the grief and pain, I realised something... I knew that Atemu loved me and cared about me. I knew that he would never forget about me, wherever he is. And I got to say goodbye." Tears roll down Ryou's cheeks. Yugi's own eyes are stinging. "And... You never got any of that." Ryou shakes his head, rubbing at his eyes. "You were just knocked out, and when you woke up, he was gone, without any explanation, or farewell, or... Anything. You never knew if he felt anything for you. You never knew if he regarded you higher than a pawn, or puppet, if he was using you or his feelings were genuine." Yugi sighed deeply. "And Ryou... for that, I feel so sorry for you. No one else can understand what it's like to give everything, your entire physical being to someone. To be willing to share your heart and body and soul... and to have that thrown back in your face and be abused must be the worst pain the world..."

"It was." Ryou whispers tearfully. "U-Until he d-d-_died_..."

"And then... Malik told us that you had a deal with him that no one else knew about. About how if you helped Bakura, and gave yourself to him willingly, and followed his orders, when he gained all seven items, he would bring your mother and sister back to life... Ryou, we didn't know about that."

"W-We-Well, it doesn't matter, does it?" Ryou wipes at his eyes. "B-because they're all dead and gone now... Everyone..."

"Ryou." Yugi holds his hand for a moment, squeezes it, and lets go. "Listen to me. Malik only told me about this two years ago. When he did, I told Jounouchi, and Honda, and Anzu, and they all agreed that that changed a _lot_." Ryou sniffs again. "Jou said that if Serenity was killed, he would betray the world twice over to bring her back."

"H-he did?" Ryou breathes weakly. Yugi nods. "W-Wow..."

"Family runs deeper than friendship, no matter what Anzu says." Yugi smiles weakly. Ryou realises for the first time how tall he has grown, how much his voice has deepened. "I've never had a sister. I can't even imagine how much losing her would hurt."

"I-It did." Ryou nods, his voice wobbling worse than ever. "I-I still can't think of Amane without pain..."

"And then, I realised that it was Atemu who was so angry at you." Yugi's voice catches in his throat at the thought of his darker half. "He didn't think like me. Like us. All he could see was that the Spirit of the Ring was evil, and anyone who did his bidding was evil, and therefore, and instant enemy of his."

"But..." Ryou sighs. "He... He forgave Malik, didn't he?" Yugi nods.

"Yes, but remember? That took a really long time. He wasn't around long enough to make it up to you. He would have forgiven you, if he had the time."

"Really?" Ryou asks hopefully. Yugi nods again. Ryou smiles, actually smiles, for the fist time since he was sixteen, and his heart feels a little lighter – a good part of the guilt on his chest has washed away.

"Yes... Ryou, we were horrible to you. We said all sorts of awful things to you... and they were completely uncalled for. We were so blind to see that you really cared about the Spirit. That it wasn't just a teenage thing or something."

"Yugi, you didn't-"

"We practically threw you out of the country!" Yugi sighs, leaning against the beaten sofa. "There's no excuse for that. You were hurting, so much, and all we did was give you the cold shoulder. No wonder you're so..."

"Frayed?" Ryou suggests. Yugi nods, satisfied with the analogy. "But I deserve it. All this pain and misery... I brought it upon myself. I-I can't pity myself, not when I'm the one to blame."

"What? No!" Yugi is shocked. "How... Ryou, you're not at fault at this! You were a teenager in love with the prospect of having your sister and mother alive again! And not only that, you were manipulated by someone stronger than you. No one blames you for this anymore!"

"If it wasn't for me, you would have had so fewer problems." Ryou murmurs. "Remember the shadow game? Back in Duelist Kingdom? He told me to do that. I had to pretend to be nice and assimilate myself with you guys. I didn't want to lie to you guys..."

"Ryou-"

"O-Or what about Battle city?" Ryou's voice raises a little. "Wh-When I had to lie to you guys so many times..."

"Ryou!" Yugi is unable to take any more, and he grabs Ryou's shoulders, forcing the two to stare eye to eye. "Please. I'm trying to apologize and forgive you, you idiot." Ryou nibbles on his lower lip. "Ryou, look at yourself. You're not well. I can see that. Your daughter can see that. Malik told me how depressed you are. Please, let me help."

"I-I..." Ryou sighs. "I... Yugi... I don't know what to say..."

"Then, don't say anything." The taller male rests a hand on Ryou's shoulder. "Let me, let us help you. Think of it as a way to say sorry."

"D-do you really want to help me?" Ryou sniffs weakly. Yugi nods. Ryou know that he needs the help. Desperately. The breakdown in his psychiatrists office two weeks ago is clear proof that his sanity is crumbling. He knows he cannot face this alone, the terrible loss that every day, that still felt like a fresh open wound. Ryou is relieved that he no longer has to carry the guilt, Yugi was forgiven him for that, and Ryou is grateful beyond words. But... What about Bakura? Ryou wants desperately to know how he could stop the heart-wrenching grief, of Bakura's death. But how could Yugi know? He loved his dark side, but like a brother. Ryou found romance in Bakura. Romance and passion and love that he thinks he can never regain with anyone else. Although he may not have felt the same way, Bakura was –is- the love of Ryou's life. Ryou leans against the couch, wiping repeatedly at his face. Yugi stares down at his hands. He wonders if he should tell Ryou was Malik told him three years ago. He is sworn to ultimate secrecy, under pain of death, to never, ever tell Ryou that Bakura wasn't _exactly_ dead. He wants to. He burns to tell Ryou. He imagines the hope in Ryou's eyes, watching his expression light up, and real, actual _emotion_ flood those awful empty brown eyes.

But, as much as he wants to, Yugi knows that he cannot. Not just because he has a promise with Malik – no, he would be willing to break that if it meant Ryou was happy. But because of the ideas Ryou was to get. If Ryou knew that Bakura was alive, then he would try and get him, wouldn't he? It would have never been a good idea, but now that he has a daughter – that not even Malik knows about, apparently, it changed everything. Ryou has to move on. He has to try and repair that shattered pieces of his heart for his child.

"Ryou, I didn't realise that you were in so much trouble." Yugi bites his lip. "I didn't know you had a child you couldn't handle. I didn't understand how much you were hurting..."

"But... You went through the same thing." Ryou mumbles, almost accusingly. "Y-You understood..."

"I didn't compare what I had with Atemu to what you had with your Spirit. I didn't think to. I was ignorant. Ryou, I'm so sorry. But I can't just sit back and watch you run your life into the ground anymore. I should have done this earlier, and I'm so sorry that I haven't."

"D-don't be sorry." Ryou played with the fraying hem of his shirt sleeve. "I'm the one that betrayed you for someone who didn't love me. I'm the stupid one."

"You're not stupid." Yugi says gently. "You just believe in love. There's nothing wrong with that... Ryou, come back to Japan with me. I run the Game Shop, and Jou rooms with me. You can too. She can even have a room for herself, I can arrange something somewhere."

"Y-Yugi... That's too nice.. I-I can't accept that..." Ryou looks down. Yugi sighs.

"Yes, you can. And you will, 'cos I'm not taking no for an answer. I know you won't let Malik help you, but I'm more stubborn than him. And you're coming to Japan. Look at yourself. You're sick. And pumping your body full of drugs isn't going to make you feel better. What'll make you feel better is being with people who understand your anguish and try to make it better."

"Yugi..."

"It'll be safer for your child, Domino." Yugi says gravely. "So much safer than the mean streets of London. Don't be stupid Ryou, you know that."

"I-I know, but-"

"No buts." Yugi stands up firmly, a look on his face that showed he was taking nonsense. Ryou gulps. "You're coming with me, and that's that, all right? Now c'mon, I'll help you make something to eat. I'm starving." He holds out his hand for Ryou to take. The white-haired man stares, his mind ticking over, trying to process everything that was happening.

A chance to go back to Domino.

Friendship.

Forgiveness.

A chance to restore his sanity.

Drawing in a deep, long breath, Ryou reaches up, and takes Yugi's hand.

* * *

"Dad, I'm scared."

Ryou smiles, and looks down at the little blonde had pressed into his side. Amane grips her fathers' hand like a lifeline, staring at the big building in front of her with apprehension.

"There's nothing to be scared about, sweetie." Ryou rubs the five-year-olds back in slow, soothing circles. "You're going to like school, I promise."

"Really?" Her peaky little face stared up at Ryou. "... What if they make fun of me?"

"And why would they do that?" Ryou crouches down so they are eye-to-eye. "What's there to make fun of?" Amane shrugged. "All I see is a totally adorable little girl who's eager to learn and can't wait to make heaps and heaps of new friends. Am I right?"

The child is still for a second, then her face splits into a grin, and she wraps her arms around Ryou's neck in a tight hug. Ryou smiles as he wraps his arms around his daughter, picking her up, and whirling her around. Amane squealed with delight.

He does love her.

Amane refuses to leave Ryou's side, insisting that he join her on the vast, dangerous trek to the kindergarten class, and Ryou is only too happy to oblige. He doesn't have a lecture at the local University until eleven. As he walks down the halls, staring about himself, Ryou can't help but remember another first day of school – his little sister. Even though he was seven, he still remembered how she clung so tightly to him as he showed her to her class, and refused to let him leave for his own room.

_I think I love her more than I love Bakura._ Ryou squeezes Amane's hand, and she squeezes back, looking up at him with a cheeky grin. _Of course I do. It's a different sort of love. Stronger. I'd die for her in a heartbeat. I'd do anything to keep her safe_.

And Bakura is hurting less, too. Although Ryou still has moments, where he'll lay awake in bed for hours and stare at the ceiling, they were becoming less and less frequent. He was completely off the anti-depressants, and indeed, had been for nine months. His new doctor explained that his medication was wrong. He had been misdiagnosed as a schizophrenic, as well as being depressed, and was offered proper pills, but Ryou refused, explaining he would rather heal through therapy and self-exploration than more drugs. And he felt better. It was like a veil had been removed from his eyes. And now, he can see everything for what it really is. The frayed ends were being sewed back together. And this time, Amane is the titanium thread that holds Ryou in one piece.

"This is your class." Ryou turns the doorknob, and pushes it open. The chid gulps, and stands at the doorway, staring at the class. She hadn't gone to any preschool. Almost immediately, she notices that every other girl in the class is wearing jeans, blue, with pink or purple embroidery, and tee-shirts with lettering on them. And sneakers. Amane is wearing her favourite flouncy skirt the one with the pink flowers, and what she calls her 'puffy cloud' shirt. She feels conspicuous. Most girls have their hair in ponytails, or braids, or short, sleek bobs. Amane pats at her loose, long curls self-consciously. Ryou notices the behaviour, and winces. She is too young to worry about such things.

However, it is unfounded, when another little girl bounds up, in introduction. A 'hi, I'm Muyoki!' And a 'what a pretty skirt!' finished with a 'come play tea party!'

She is fine. Ryou turns away, and walks down the hall by himself, as Amane bounds after her newfound friend. He makes his way outside, into the sunlight, and pulls open the door to his 1990's Toyota car, sitting inside.

Fate has a strange way of working. Bakura's death brought Amane's life. If Bakura was still around, Ryou would have never met Adriana, drunken haze or not, and Amane would have never be conceived. Ryou couldn't imagine a life without his little girl. Death eventually brings life.

And new ends will always bring new beginnings.

* * *

_I still wonder a lot about decisions. _

_And it's still late at night, when Amane is asleep, and there's not much traffic outside, and I'm having an insomniac moment. But I worry less. About what's the right thing and what isn't. Yugi was right. My choice, of Bakura and his love, and hope, over Yugi and his friendships, is understandable. I don't hate myself anymore._

_But I still miss Bakura, so much. I'm still not ready for a relationship. Sometimes, I feel as though I would never be ready to offer myself to someone, my life, my body and soul and heart and mind. But Bakura is so special to me._

_And I can think of him without crying. We had lovely moments. Sometimes, when it was late at night – like this – and I was awake, he used to hold me. And I could feel it. I could feel his arms around me, his breath on my face, his heart beating against me. I could smell him, hear him breathe. When there were moments like that... There was no way he couldn't feel something. What we had seemed so genuine. Not even Bakura could act like that._

_And Yugi was right about people never leaving us, too. Sometimes, I wonder if Bakura is really dead. I can't see it. The mighty Bakura, being taken down the way he did. It doesn't make sense. _

_Maybe it's just a stupid fantasy. Of course it's a stupid fantasy. But, no matter how much time goes by, I will always yearn for Bakura. The one person I actually truly, deeply loved._

_But one thing Bakura said has kept me thinking._

_He said you can never kill the darkness._

_I haven't given up hope._

_Yet._

* * *

I am so sorry for the length, by the way. I just started and kept going and going and going and then I realised I kinda had to put an ending onto it and sorta give it SOME sort of circle, or everyone would feel short-changed. But aside from editing and minor alterations, I actually wrote that in one setting, that's how... Into it (?) I was.

And I just ranted for WAY too long.

But thanks for reading! :D

...

And you can review if you want to... xD


	15. My Worst Nightmare

Woooo!

Yeah, I know, technically, It's a day late...

But to make up for it, it's long! And screwed-up! But in a good way!

I think.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

"You're having nightmares again."

"Shut up." Bakura snarled the words, turning away from Ryou as he shuffles into the kitchen, red-eyed and tousle-haired. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes I do." Ryou said gently, keeping his eyes down on his toast. "I was up for most of the night, Bakura, working on a project for creative writing for Monday. You were practically screaming in your sleep again. I thought you might be angry if I was still up, so I turned out the light and pretended to be asleep when you started quietening down. You were really frightened when you woke up, Bakura. I was worried."

"Shut up." Bakura yanked the fridge open, staring at it's contents. Nothing really wirth eating. He sighed. "It's none of your fucking business."

"It is when you're thrashing about in bed and punch me in the face." Ryou took a tentative bite of the cooked bread. "I'm only worried about you, Bakura. What are you not telling me-"

"Shut up!" Bakura spun around and growled, slamming the fridge door shut. "I'm not having nightmares Ryou! And if I am, they are of none of your concern. When the hell did you become so interested in my life, huh?" Ryou chose not to answer. Instead, he looked back down at his food, tears forming in his chocolate brown eyes.

"I-I'm only worried about you..."

* * *

Ryou was right.

Bakura sighed as he stared up at the ceiling. The sheets were around his waist, his entire wiry form covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He'd had another nightmare. But it wasn't really another nightmare, so to speak. They were all the same. Flames, screaming, pain, blood, running, fear, darkness, death... Bakura wish he knew what it meant. He'd never lived out the nightmare fully, he always woke up. All he ever got were dashed little snippets, like the images were cut up, and stuck back together, but in the wrong place. It was confusing, but Bakura was positive about one thing- They were memories. There was always sand under his feet. They had to be memories...

Bakura rolled over, and stared at the slender form beside him. Ryou was deep in sleep, as he breathed in and out, long and slow. His eyes were closed, and there was a small smile on his face. Lucky sod. Bakura bed that _he_ never had nightmares to deal with.

Okay. Technically, that wasn't true. Ryou still woke up screaming and crying some nights, when he had horrible dreams that relived the death of his mother and sister. That was definitely traumatic for the poor teen, and it usually took hours for Bakura to console Ryou, and get him to be calm enough so he could go back to sleep. But Ryou still had that childish innocence in him. It was okay for him to laugh and cry and retain his naivety. Bakura wasn't allowed that privilege...

He never was.

The yami sighed deeply as he stared at Ryou, who groaned in his sleep. _You have no idea how lucky you are to be able to sleep dreamlessly, Ryou. It's all I want_.

* * *

Fire.

Bakura groaned, rubbing at his eyes. He was lying down on the dirt...

The yami gasped, and managed to stumble to his feet. He looked down at his hands, blinking. They were dark, the colour of burnt caramel, and so _tiny..._

_I'm a child._ Bakura realised. _It's my memory... Or nightmare. Whatever it is. Fuck, am I going to have it properly? Wake me up Ryou, wake me up __**now**__._

Screaming... Bakura ran a hand along the brick wall, narrowing his eyes at the noise. His tiny feet pattered along the dirt, and he kept his eyes focused on the silhouettes ahead of him. Finally, he reached the corner, and was able to peep his little white head around the corner of the alleyway.

_Oh God._

Bakura's knees gave out on him, and he clutched at the corner for support as the horrifying scene played out before him. Blood splattered over walls, pooled on the dirt, staining soldiers robes crimson as the villagers were slaughtered. He held his hands away from his face, and turned away from the ugly scene, but he couldn't stop the screams roaring in his ears, or the cold chink of steel against human bone.

"Wake me up Ryou." Bakura moaned, kneeling down in the dirt. He whimpered, gently rocking back and forth, his head in his hands. "Get me out get me out get me out **get me out**."

* * *

Ryou's eyes snapped open, and he gasped at the sound of his name. He turned his head over to the yami, who was moaning and thrashing in his sleep. The whitenette bit on his lip, propping himself into a sitting position, so he could look down at Bakura.

"Wake up." The teenager whispered, shaking Bakura's shoulder anxiously. "Come on, Bakura, wake up. Please, wake up... You can't tell me this is not a nightmare. Wake up damnit!" He applied pressure on Bakura's shoulder, staring down at the yami's face. Finally, Bakura's eyes snapped open, and he looked up at the concerned face hovering over him.

"Ryou." He gasped, his eyes wide in fright. "Ryou..."

"Don't you dare tell me you didn't have a nightmare." Ryou muttered, sounding almost angry as he hovered over the yami, sick with worry. Bakura merely looked up into those innocent, chocolate eyes, which bore so much innocence and light, but so much confusion and pain...

Ryou blinked as Bakura gripped hard on his upper arms, burying his head in the teenager's shoulder. The whitenette sank, lax, into the bed, with Bakura clinging close to him, shaking like a leaf.

"I-It..." Bakura knew he was being weak, but he _couldn't help it._ It all kept running through his head. Blood and death and screaming and fire... Bakura moaned, clinging tightly to Ryou. The teenager blinked back tears of sympathy for the yami as he gently rolled over onto his side, making sure Bakura moved comfortably with him. Whatever the nightmare was, it must have been _awful_.

"Oh, Bakura." Ryou whispered gently, gently stroking the yami's hand. "It's okay. It's okay. The nightmares over now, okay? You're safe. Now calm down, and you'll go right back to sleep-"

"No!" Ryou gasped as Bakura jerked up in panic, his eyes wild with fright. "No!" He repeated, hair falling into his eyes as he shook his head desperately. "No sleeping. No sleeping I can't I can't I can't see it again you can't make me..." He held his head in his hands, biting down hard on his lip. "Can't go through it again."

"Oh_ yami."_ Ryou's heart almost melted in concern for him. "Oh no. Umm... How about I make you a coffee or something, and we can... have a bit of a talk, maybe?"

"That sounds... Good." Bakura said gratefully.

* * *

"Do you want to tell me about it yet?"

"No."

Ryou bit his lip, clutching his third cup of coffee in almost four hours. Bakura was already on his _sixth_, and Ryou really didn't like the way Bakura's hands were shaking, or his left eye was continuously twitching.

"Bakura-"

"Shut up." The teenager bit on his lip, staring down at the half-empty mug. The pair were curled up on the couch, the television playing quietly in the background. The sky was a brilliant gold and orange from the rising sun. Bakura had kept Ryou up since two in the morning.

"You've kept me up for almost five hours, Bakura. I think I'm entitled to know what you're afraid of."

"No you're not." Bakura snarled, glaring at the teenager. "You're not entitled to anything."

"Whatever." Ryou took another sip of his coffee.

* * *

"Bakura... Bakura man wake up, Karita's gonna fl-"

"BAKURA!" Ryou jumped as he was roughly cuffed about the side of head by his PE teacher. He gasped, rubbing at the place where he was hit. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I _was_ sleeping..." The teenager mumbled without thinking first, rubbing at his eyes. Karita froze, and Jounouchi, who was sitting beside him in the bleachers, groaned.

"You what?" Ryou gasped as Karita roughly grabbed his arm, forcing him off the wooden seat and pulling him roughly to his feet. "You fell asleep in my class?" Ryou yelped as he was pushed away, staggering on his feet, struggling to regain his balance. The whole class stopped what they were doing to watch Ryou, who had his head bowed. "How _dare_ you show such disrespect-"

"I-I'm sorry, Karita-sensei." Ryou whispered, wrapping his arms around himself, staring at the floor. "I-I-"

"NO excuses." Karita snarled, glaring at the teenager. "I'll teach you to disrespect me, Bakura. Twenty laps of the basketball court, no stopping. _Now."_

Ryou fought back tears, his head pounding in a headache and his legs shaking. He knew he wouldn't last five laps in his weak, exhausted state, let alone twenty. Karita was going to _kill_ him.

_**Damn**__ you for keeping me up, Bakura._

* * *

"Ringu? Bakura _no,_ you'll scare yourself stupid and you know it."

"Shut up, Ryou. Sort this DVD thing out and make me a coffee. Quickly. I'm getting sleepy again."

"Bakura, _please_. There are other ways. If you talk to a doctor."

"_No!_ No doctors, Ryou!"

"Bakura- !!"

"Listen to me and obey my orders!"

"Bakura, please... You have to sleep sooner or later... It's been almost two days. I-I don't know if I can stay up with you again."

"You will do as I say!"

"Bakura... Please..."

* * *

"Make me another coffee." Bakura was sitting up straight, his hands clenched in his lap s he stared at the now blank television screen. "Now." Ryou had his face in his hands, trembling. _I hate scary movies. _"Oh come on, Ryou. It's over." The teenager was crying quietly as he stood up, wiping at his eyes before heading into the kitchen. "Three sugars."

"Yes, Bakura." Ryou whispered, his hands trembling. His legs felt rubbery and weak, and everything was spinning... He almost tripped and fell as he wandered back into the lounge, clutching Bakura's coffee. The yami accepted the drink without any thanks, making a face as he sipped the liquid. Ryou was shaking awfully as he staggered towards his bedroom, leaning against the wall as he walked... Or tried to. Ryou gasped as his legs gave out on him, and he collapsed onto his knees, leaning against the wall.

"Oi, Ryou!" Bakura called out from the lounge. "Put more sugar in this, I can still taste the coffee." Ryou whimpered, holding his head in shaking hands. He felt so dizzy, and _tired_. Bakura frowned in the lounge, not hearing a reply. _"Ryou!" _He snarled. "Fucking hell..." He groaned as he stood up, stomping into the hallway. Bakura froze when he saw Ryou on his knees, doubled over and whimpering. "Ryou?" Bakura's tone was softer as he approached the teen. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I-I can't move." Ryou whispered, his voice shaking, close to tears. "Kura... I-I'm really weak..." The yami brushed off the affectionate nickname in his concern, crouching down beside the teen. "K-Karita-sensei... He made me run twenty laps around the gym for falling asleep in the bleachers... I could only do four and he got so angry at me... He said I was a useless girl and that I didn't deserve to be in his class... Everyone was just watching us, not moving." Ryou buried his face in his hands. "Please, Bakura, I just want to go to sleep. Just for a few hours, And then I'll be right out of bed and keep you company again, I promise."

"Please." Bakura snorted derisively as he turned away. "Like I need your company. Go get some _precious_ sleep then, if it's what you want Ryou." He rolled his eyes as he stomped away from the teen. "You're pathetic."

"This coming from the person who's too afraid to go to sleep because of a _nightmare_." Ryou muttered savagely. Bakura froze, and spun around on his heel, his eyes blazing.

"_What_ did you say?" He spat, his voice low and venomous. Ryou's eyes widened, and he bit his lip, bowing his head and struggling to curl into himself.

"N-Nothing." Ryou stammered quickly, shaking. Bakura growled as he walked back over to the teen, leering down at him.

"I heard you." Bakura snarled. "I fucking heard you, Ryou."

"I-I'm sorry." Ryou gasped, crying out as Bakura bent down, seizing a handful of long white hair. "Please, Bakura-sama!"

* * *

Later that afternoon, Ryou locked himself in the bathroom. He took off most of his clothes, until he was standing in the middle of the bathroom floor in his boxers, examining his reflection. The bruises on his stomach and chest would be easy to hide, and as long as he kept his breathing shallow, his ribs didn't hurt. Ryou was most concerned about the quickly forming bruise on the side of his face, however. He touched it and winced, turning away from the mirror. Ryou felt more exhausted than ever as he pulled his clothes back on, sitting on the rim of the bathtub. He couldn't go out there again. Bakura was stretched on the couch, watching another scary movie, and the teenager didn't want to go near him. He just wanted to sleep. In fact...

Ryou easily lined the bathtub with a couple of towels, rolling one up to use as a pillow. He removed his jeans, for comforts sake, and stretched out in the tub, staring up at the ceiling. The overhead lamp was switched off, the only light coming from the slowly setting sun, from the small window near the ceiling. The teenager sniffed, nuzzling the makeshift pillow.

He was asleep in barely a few minutes.

* * *

"Fucking hell."

Bakura rested his hands on his hips as he stared down at the (in his eyes ) pitiful sight. Ryou was curled up in the bath, looking a million miles away, deep in sleep. Bakura was... Jealous. He would have _loved_ to sleep like that, a deep, luxurious sleep...

"Wake up." Bakura snarled as he bent down over the bath. He started shaking Ryou's shoulder, but got no response. "Hey! Wake _up!" _He slapped Ryou hard, the teenager gasping as he jerked awake. Brown eyes looked around in shock, before settling on Bakura.

"Oh..." Ryou finally managed to whisper, chewing on his lower lip. "Y-You okay, Bakura?"

"Come with me." Bakura snarled as he straightened himself, grabbing Ryou's wrist. The teenager gasped as he was roughly jerked into a standing position. Bakura dragged Ryou out of the bath unceremoniously, the teenager roughly being led into the bedroom.

"Bakura?" Ryou rubbed at his eyes as Bakura slammed the bedroom door behind him. "What on earth is going on?"

"I'm going to sleep. " The yami reported as he released his hold on the teen. Ryou visibly relaxed, smiling slightly. "I never said you were." Bakura snarled as he sank onto the bed. The teenager froze, and blinked.

"What-"

"You're going to stay awake." Bakura instructed. "And wake me up if I start having any nightmares. And if you don't, then I will make sure that you regret ever being born. Understood?" Ryou's mouth hung open as Bakura stretched out on the bed, resting his head on the pillow.

"Yes." Ryou breathed as he slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, shaking. "But I'm kind of tired myself-"

"I don't give a shit." Bakura snarled, half-opening one eye to glare at the teenager. "If you fall to sleep, and I have a nightmare Ryou, you are going to regret it, I can fucking assure you." Ryou drew his knees up to his chest, blinking back tears.

_This is so unfair_.

* * *

_No._

Bakura's stomach went cold when he looked around himself, recognizing the sand, the screams, the _fire_.

He was back in his nightmare.

"RYOU!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, turning his head up to the sky. "Wake me up! Wake me up _now_, I swear to God, I make your life a living hell!" Nothing. Bakura swore loudly, looking around himself. He was back in the back alley, the flames lighting up the scene, an orange glow dancing on the walls. Bakura placed a hand on the mud brick, biting on his lip hard. The screaming was louder, closer. Bakura could see the shadows of the massacre against the flames on the wall. He turned away, holding his hands over his ears. He closed his eyes tightly shut, moaning. "You fucking bitch Ryou, wake me up. Wake me up Ryou, wake me up wake me up wake me _up!_" He felt a sob rising in his throat. _"Wake me up!"_ He screamed, shaking. "Oh God Ryou I am going to kill you. I am going to fucking _kill_ you!" He started to sob as the screams echoed, just around the corner, the sound of blood splattering on the ground meeting his ears.

"_Wake me up Ryou! Fucking wake me up!"  
_

* * *

Bakura gasped as he was jerked out of his panicked slumber. His eyes snapped open, and he stared up into the warm chocolate orbs, shining with concern that hovered over him. Ryou gasped and jerked back as Bakura sat up, trembling.

"_Fuck_ you Ryou!" The yami immediately ripped into the whitenette, grabbing his shoulders, and forcing Ryou to look him in the eye. "Fuck you! I told you to fucking wake me up when I started! That was not waking me up as soon as I fucking started, was it?"

"I-I'm sorry!" Ryou half-whimpered, half-gasped, shaking under Bakura's grasp. "I-I just fell asleep, and-"

"_You fell asleep?"_ Bakura's tone was venomous as he glared at the boy, who increasingly reminded him of a baby rabbit caught in an eagle's talons. "I _told_ you to stay awake!"

"You were in such a deep sleep, a-and I w-was so tired, I-I thought if I-I j-just closed m-my eyes for a-a little nap-" Ryou screamed as Bakura drew his fist back, and slammed it into Ryou's mouth. The teenager's hands flew up to his mouth, eyes wide in fright.

"_You bitch!"_ Bakura screamed, shaking Ryou hard by the shoulders. The teenager started to cry, his mouth throbbing in pain. Eventually, he managed to lower his shaking his hands away from his mouth, blood pooled on his palms. Blood dripped from Ryou's lips, and the teenager was sobbing as he raised a hand to his lips, blood trickling down his forearm. Bakura stared as Ryou spat out the dislodged tooth into his hand, his breathing harsh and ragged.

"Y-You..." Ryou dropped the tooth onto the bed, and lunged at Bakura, incensed. The yami blinked, surprised as Ryou pushed him onto the bed, his back flat against the mattress. Ryou was crying as he starting punching Bakura in the stomach, with all the strength he could muster. The yami only accepted a few blows, before easily grasping Ryou's bony wrists, tightening his grasp. Ryou gasped, and whimpered.

"I'm going to make you pay." Bakura snarled, clenching tighter onto Ryou's slim bony wrists. The teenager gritted his teeth, his tears increasing as Bakura increased the pressure. It turned into a high pitched scream as Bakura grasped the bones in Ryou's left wrist so tight, that they snapped. Bakura released his hold on the whitenette's hands, and Ryou grasped his broken wrist with his right, sobbing. "Told you." The teenager bowed his head, blood dripping from his lips and onto the bed. "And I'm not done." Bakura snarled. "There's not going to be anymore sleeping from now on. For either of us."

* * *

"Oh, stop crying." Bakura snarled, leering down at the innocent teenager in disdain. Ryou merely sobbed louder, leaning against the wall. Bakura rolled his eyes, before slowly sliding down the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. He stared at Ryou, who sat across him in the tiny hallway. Ryou shook his head weakly, his head bowed. "Ryou!"

"Don't." Ryou moaned weakly, clutching his broken wrist. He was too afraid to move, lest his ribs hurt even more. "Please..."

"Oh, shut up." Bakura snarled, no trace of sympathy in his voice. "You brought it upon yourself Ryou, and you know it." The teenager sniffed, weakly shaking his head.

"No." He protested, blinking. "H-How? I-I just... I was so tired and I needed to sleep..." Bakura only snarled, clenching his hands into fists.

"Do you listen to _anything_ I say?" He growled, his expression smouldering. "If I you can't sleep, then you _can't!_ Is it so damn hard to just obey me?"

Bakura left Ryou crying in the tiny hallway.

* * *

"You can't keep doing this."

"I can do what I like." Bakura snarled, crushing the now-empty energy drink can. "I'm your better, I'm your master. Get over it."

"But... I-I..." Ryou rested his head on his kneecaps, cradling his arm in the cast against his chest, eyes welling with tears. "I-I have to go to school in an hour-"

"No." Bakura interrupted him, his eyes narrowed. "You're staying here with me."

"Bakura, I-"

"No arguments!" He barked loudly. "If it's so important, then Yugi or someone can get your work. Call in and say you're very sick."

"Bakura-"

"_Don't_ argue with me." Bakura snapped. "You're not the one in control here."

* * *

Four days.

Ryou sat on the couch, sinking in and out of consciousness. He left like he was riding on waves, sweet, sweet waves of sleep, awake, sleep awake, sleep awake slee-

"_Ryou!"_

The teenager jerked awake, and rubbing at his aching, itching eyes, slowly pulled himself into a standing position. In the bedroom, Bakura sat on the floor – for the bed had been thrown out- an iPod in his hand. It was turned up so loud, that Ryou could hear it across the room.

"What is it." Ryou mumbled with his eyes half-closed. Bakura dropped the empty can of power drink to the floor, where it clanged among the others.

"I"m out." Bakura ran his hands through his hair, which stood on end. "Go get me more."

"Bakura, I-"

"Don't _argue_ with me!" There was that flash of steel, in his eyes and voice. Ryou squeaked, and nodded weakly, backing away and shutting the door.

"All right." Ryou stumbled along with his eyes closed, really thinking he was going to pass out. He did the night before, and fell on the carpet, hitting his head. He remained that way for four hours before Bakura discovered him and gave him a smack across the face to wake him up.

Bakura had lost his grip on reality. Ryou could see it. It scared him, so much, to see his rapid deterioration, but he felt almost just as bad. He could barely function. For the past four days, Bakura had refused to sleep, and inexplicably, forced Ryou to stay awake. And he had to submit. There was no choice in the matter. Ryou had learned the terrible consequences of saying no.

And Ryou was going to do something about it. He had to.

* * *

"All right, Ryou, what was it you wanted to see me about?"

Ryou rubbed his eyes, struggling to focus on the woman in front of him. "Hm?"

"I haven't slept in four days." Ryou whispered. The horrendous shadows under his eyes, and tousled hair, was proof enough. "I need sleeping pills." The doctor was taken aback.

"Ryou, I can't just give them to you like that, we have to have a proper discussion, go through the options-"

"Prescribe them to me, or I'll buy them off a street corner." Ryou would not budge from his ultimatum.

The doctor sighed, and pulled her prescription pad towards her.

* * *

Ryou's hands were shaking as he entered the apartment, and heart pounding. It was so risky, what he was about to do. _But I have to help Bakura. And this is the only way. To give him enough drugs to put him to sleep. Even with all the caffeine he's had._

"Ryou." The white-haired boy jumped as Bakura slammed the bathroom door behind himself. "You get some?"

"And some food." Ryou murmured. "Sorry I was gone so long, the queues were hell-"

"Whatever." Bakura snapped, his eyes narrowed. "I'm hungry as well. Cook me something." Bakura dove his hand in the bag, and then pulled out a slim can of energy drink, loaded with caffeine, sugar, guarana, and taurine. Limit one per day. It's afternoon and Bakura's already had four.

"Sure." Ryou sighed tiredly, his eyelids drooping. _Should I just do it now? Go for it before he's completely insane?_

_Yes. Oh god yes. I can't take this anymore._ Ryou's head was spinning. He closed his eyes, and then opened them again, struggling to focus. He pulled the load of bread from the bag, as well as the lettuce and tomato. He pulled open the kitchen drawer, taking out a large, sharp knife, best for cutting soft tomatoes. He sliced a single tomato, hands trembling, which he lay out on top of the counter. Lightly shredded lettuce followed.

Now. Ryou gulped as he withdrew the small bottle of sleeping pills from his pocket, and unscrewed the lid. They were capsules, thankfully. Teeth gritted, terrified of missing, Ryou cut the top of the capsule off, and set the knife down on the kitchen counter. He lightly dusted the powder over the sandwich, barely able to keep his open.

"And make sure you-" Due to lack of sleep, Ryou was unable to react as quickly as he normally could. Before he could even gasp, Bakura appeared in the doorway, and froze. "What." He spat, blood boiling. "_What are you doing?"_

"I-I'm so sorry!" Ryou dropped the remainder of the capsule, pressing himself against the kitchen counter. "P-Please!"

"What _is_ that!" Bakura roared, before snatching up the bottle on the counter, raising it to his eyes. _Sleeping pills._ "What?" He shook the bottle, all traces of rational thinking absolutely gone. "You little _bitch!"_

"I-I just wanted you to sleep!" Ryou pleaded, tears of pure fright running down his cheeks. He had never, ever seen Bakura so _furious_. "P-Please-"

"How _dare_ you!" Bakura thundered. "How _dare_ you poison my food!"

"Bakura-"

"How could you?" Bakura bellowed. "How the fuck _could_ you!"

"Bakura-"

"I trusted you! I had your companionship!"

"B-Bakura-"

"And you do _this!"_ Bakura took a step towards Ryou, a murderous expression on his face. "You _betray _me!" Ryou screamed as Bakura picked up the butchers' knife. "I'm going to fucking _kill _you!"

"_NO!" _Ryou dodged under Bakura's arm, absolutely petrified. "Bakura_ please!"_

"You _deserve_ death for this!" Ryou pushed the front door open, and ran into the hallway hyperventilating, sobbing. "You little _bitch!"_

Along the hallway, front doors were silently being cracked open by other nosy residents. Gasps of shock and hurried calls to the police followed.

"B-Bakura..." Ryou had himself backed into a corner, next to the lift entrance. He trembled violently, beyond coherent words. "I-I... P-Please..."

"This is what you _get_." Ryou screamed, cornered, unable to fight back, or move, as Bakura brought down the butchers knife, stabbing him in the chest. For a moment, there was numb shock. Bakura wrenched the metal blade free, and a heartbeat later, Ryou screamed as the wound erupted in horrible, white-hot agony. He sank to his knees, head bowed as he clutched helplessly at his shirt, gasping as his voice gave out. Bakura stood over him, still clutching the knife, which slowly dripped blood onto the floor, creating a tiny puddle of crimson on the carpet. Blood gushed through Ryou's fingers, down his wrists and forearms, drenching his clothes. Still feeling nothing but cold fury, Bakura grabbed at Ryou's hair, and dragged him up roughly, his own hands shaking. Ryou screamed again, and with a final burst of strength, found in pure desperation and agony, Ryou pushed at Bakura, managing to tear himself free, albeit minus a handful of long white fluffy hair.

Growling, Bakura tackled Ryou to the ground, the teenager crying out beneath him as his back smacked into the bloodstained carpet. He struggled weakly, sapped of strength and will, but Bakura easily pinned Ryou down with one hand, straddling the boys' hips. He had the rationalisation of an animal. Driven insane by outrage, lack of sleep, paranoia, fear, and betrayal, Bakura had lost complete control of himself. At that moment, there was only one through running through his mind. _Kill the traitor._

Ryou arched his back, a strangled gasp issuing from parted lips as Bakura pierced him in the chest again, on the left side, dangerously close to his heart and puncturing a lung. Unperturbed, Bakura stabbed the weakly thrashing teenager again, who responded with a weak moan, wracked with pain, weakened from blood loss, and dying. Bakura slammed the long butchers knife into Ryou one more time, and as he drew the blade out, the whitenette shuddered, and then lay still.

"_That_." Bakura panted, his hands on the carpet beside Ryou's head. "Is what you get." Hair fell over Ryou's face, and he brushed it away, smearing blood on his white, china-coloured skin. Dull brown eyes stared lifelessly up at Bakura, still focused in a pleading expression, begging for mercy with his last breath.

_I've killed him._

Bakura sat up straight, triumphant. He was _free_. He had won. All the nosying, all the useless failures... They were gone. Bakura had taken care of the little brat once and for all. Ryou was... Dead.

_Oh god._

Bakura froze, and sat absolutely still, staring down at Ryou's still, lifeless face. _I killed him. I killed... I killed Ryou._

The knife lay on the carpet beside him. Behind him, apartment door were being opened again. A woman screamed at the sight, but Bakura paid her no heed. _I killed my host._

_**Idiot!**_ Bakura screamed at himself. _You know what this means!_ He stared at the gold ring around Ryou's neck, sick with horror. _No. __**NO. I AM NOT RETURNING TO THAT PRISON**_. Bakura bowed his head, unable to quell the tremors that racked him. All ready, he could feel the awful tugging, pulling sensation, deep in his heart, dragging him down, back towards the ring.

_And to think._ It was the last thought that passed through Bakura's head before his soul was stuffed back into the stupid gold trinket. Where he would pass another thousand years, thinking almost entirely about Ryou and his stupidity, before he would once again have the opportunity to experience the mortal world.

_All this over a stupid fucking dream._

* * *

Awwwhh... Shit like that depresses me ToT

Regardless, R&R?


	16. Loving and Leaving

Hello!

Long time since I added to this, hehehehe...

Sorry 'bout that, I've just hit a bit of a rut. I don't know...

Lime, BTW. Just a heads-up.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

* * *

He's clipping his nails.

Not because He wants to, but because i want Him to. i said, quite firmly, that i can no longer stand to have the hardened flesh marring my skin.

He agreed, but He didn't seem happy about it. He has tested and explored my limits, however, and He knows where to draw the line.

i sit, on the couch, roll my shoulders slightly, then take the remote. As i reach for the small piece of black plastic, i can see the tendons in my hands, tiny ropes beneath the skin, clearly visible, as well as the delicate webbing of blue veins – or are they arteries?

He leaves the clippers on the coffee table, next to a small pile of nail clippings. He has clipped His toes as well, as disgusting as that is in the living area, but my tongue is held. Instead, i turn on the television, watch the flickering images flit vaguely across the screen. He is watching my face, I know. He is looking for a reaction, an expression. i will not grant him the pleasure.

"Yadonushi." That hard, gritty voice. My jaw tightens, but I refuse to spare Him a glance. "Yadonushi, look at me."

No. Instead, I focus my attention on the television, unfortunate as it is little more than a poor-quality sitcom.

"I _said_, look at me!" He is getting angry. When His anger gets the better of him, I pay. Oh, I pay dearly. But sometimes, Sometimes I feel as though the punishment is worth the crime.

He hasn't won me yet. The Game is still in play.

"I'm watching." i cave in, and respond, my teeth gritted. i can feel Him smirking, beside me, but again, i do not give Him a glance. He's not worth it. At least, that is what i try to tell myself.

"Bullshit." i force down a gasp. He strikes, and in a heartbeat, the remote is out of my hand, and in His. He turns off the television, and, as my eyes were still locked on the television screen, i can see His reflection in the curved glass. He is not smiling. Anger is set in His features. i have angered Him. The ball is in my court, for now.

i stand up, and cross the small living room. The television flickers to life once more, the sitcom returns, inviting me to observe their comedic plastic life.

It turns off. He clutches the remote, seething. Calmly, i turn the television on once more, this time covering the small sensor which gives the remote access. He growls, and the remote is thrown, hitting the television screen and bouncing off, the plastic cracked.

"_Fuck_ you then." He stands, and leaves the room, stomping so hard His ankles must be hurting. Slowly, i let out a long breath, and turn off the television. i take a seat on the couch once more, and this time, i stare at the dim grey screen, mind a million miles away.

i want to Love Him. i want to look into His eyes and say that He is my everything, my world, and i would do anything to have Him with me forever.

But He does not Love me. The scowls, the biting insults and swearing, the striking fists, they speak where His mouth will not.

He wants to break me, of this i am sure. But does He not realise that He can have me? Does He not see that i will give my all to Him, body and soul, give up all that is mine, if He would just _Love me_.

A tear falls down my cheek, and i am ashamed.

* * *

he pretends to be asleep when I enter. he tries, but the way he quickly jerked as the door open was too obvious. I snort, derisively, and flick on the light.

"Yadonushi, I know you're awake." My voice, as rough as a stone on sandpaper, makes him start. "Quit the bullshit."

"Go away." he buries his head in the pillow, and I smirk.

"This is My bed, as much as it is yours." I state, and quickly strip, My clothes puddling on the floor. I turn on the bedside light, then cross the room again, turning out the main light. A small orb of a golden hue lights up the room, piercing the darkness. "I am getting to you." I slip beneath the covers. he makes no movement. "Do you tire of Our game? I certainly do."

"i am trying to sleep." It is all he says. I roll My eyes, and beneath the sheets, shuffle towards him. I am naked, but he is not, the fabric of his t-shirt and boxer shorts stiffening beneath My palm.

"Fine. Lie there like a piece of wood. It will not stop Me." And he knows this. Eventually, as I predicted, he rolls over, and looks at Me.

"i am serious." he whispers. "i want to sleep."

"And I want to Fuck." It sounds so crude, doesn't it? he clearly thinks the same, flinching at the word. "What? you don't like the word?"

"No." he sniffs, and looks away from Me. Perhaps he does need the sleep. his eyes are shadowed with blue, as though someone smeared powder beneath them. "Call It what It is."

"What?" I chuckle. "Making _Love_? Is that what We are doing, Yadonushi? Do I make _Love_ to you, with gentle caresses and sweet nothings? Do I treat you with gentle kindness?"

"No." his teeth are gritted – I have pinched a very delicate nerve. "You treat me like..."

"Like what?" I say lazily. My hands have, at this point, slid underneath his clothes, and My dextrous run along his skin. he shivers.

"i am... Nothing." he sounds defeated, but I know that tones can be deceiving. Instead, I continue My amorous caresses, watching his cheeks flush.

"you are most certainly not nothing." I say indulgingly. "I am a thief. A thief never takes anything that is not of magnificent value."

"Then what am i to You?" I am surprised he has not asked this of Me sooner, really. One would expect it much earlier in the Game.

"My Host." I am stroking his length now, and tears are brimming in his eyes. But he will not allow them to fall, I know he is better than that.

"Your fucktoy." The language that comes from his mouth is horrible, and I have to smack him for that. he gasps, clutches at his cheek.

"I would prefer you to not speak to Me with that vulgar language." My tone is crisp. "you will speak to Me with the respect I deserve."

"And where is respect for me?" Indeed, I am pinching this nerve of his tight. "You just said i was of high worth to You. Why do You treat me like dirt?"

"you make it so easy." I coo into his ear, starting to pump him gently. "you essentially hand yourself to Me on a silver platter, and then complain about how you are... eaten?" I clamp down tightly for a moment, earning a cry from him.

"i didn't expect This." Is his reply. he is finding speech very hard by this point. I have the upper hand. I usually do, aside from his ineffectual acts of Rebellion, such as the television, and nails. At least, this is what I continuously tell Myself. Truth is, I am starting to wonder about the leeway I give him.

"Then fight Me." I am working on him quite vigorously, and the results are entertaining. he buries his head in the pillow, and I am sure I can hear him sobbing. "Cut Me, Yadonushi. Make Me cry out with pain. Make Me bleed. Make Me plead and scream beneath you."

"No." his voice is muffled, but I can still hear him. "i am not You."

"No." By this point, I am straddling him, heaping the sexual attention onto his skinny frame. he moans into the pillow, writhes, and with a harsh cry and a shudder, comes. With a smirk, I withdraw My hands from beneath his clothes, wipe them clean on his shirt. he is crying, he normally is. The words and hitting he can take, but when I touch him, he reacts abnormally, like this. Perhaps he is afraid of sex. But I looked through his memory, and he has never been touched, molested, fucked, before Me.

It must be Me he is afraid of.

"Go away." he sobs, and it is sickening to hear him. he can be so repulsive and disgusting. Did I not just show him sexual pleasure? Can he not even thank Me for bringing him to climax? Ungrateful Bitch.

"But where is Mine?" he sniffs, and looks up, eyes red-rimmed, swollen. Coupled with his under-eye circles and tousled hair, he looks a mess.

"You..." he breathes in shock, as though I cannot be serious. I have asked this of him before, of course. The results are always entertaining.

"I feel in the mood for mouth action tonight." I announce. Actually, I want to take him, feel his body shift against Mine, hear the harsh moans and cries, dig my nails in sharply (oh yes, they are clipped, I forgot), plunge into him so deeply...

But as I have stated before, more than once, I know his limits. I do not want to break him, despite what he thinks.

So I take long handfuls of his hair, so soft and long and white, and twist My fingers in deeply pulling at the roots. he barely as time to take in a breath before I crush his face against Me, forcing his head into place. I shouldn't be so rough, his nose would be blocked from crying, but this isn't for his benefit, it's for Mine.

It takes a moment, but eventually, he wraps his lips around Me, trying to relax the muscles in the base of his mouth, and his throat. he cries, and I can feel a couple of hot tears drip against My quivering member. What an interesting sensation! I must remember that for another night. his hands are on the sheets, to steady himself, and he is bent at a painful angle. I am surprised that he doesn't move.

"That's it." I purr, My head lolling back slightly. With a cough and a choke, his sweet mouth has completely enveloped Me, and he begins to gently rock his head back and forth. For someone so against this form of pleasure, he quickly gets into it. I am sure that secretly he enjoys this perversion. At least, it wouldn't surprise Me.

I yank on his hair, a reflex of pleasure, and he whimpers. The vibrations in his throat send shivers along Me, and I tug harder, extracting more sweet little sounds from his throat that dance along My quivering erection. his own hands dig into Me, his nails biting at My thighs. I disentangle one hand, and slap them away, sharply. He hiccups, another lovely feeling, and I pull at his hair even harder, putting heavy pressure on the roots, at the top where it hurts the most. he cries out aloud, but doesn't stop, if anything, he moves faster. Clearly, he wants this all to be over soon.

he is not disappointed, but I am. Less than five minutes after I first pushed him into Me, I can feel the pressure building in the pit of My stomach. I groan, a warning to him, back arched and eyes closed. he is sooo good at what he does. I have trained him well.

With a gasp and shudder, I explode inside of him, pitching forward and clenching my hands tight, before relaxing, slumped against the wall, and the pillows. It was a relatively powerful orgasm, managing to swamp My entire lower half and My torso. he should be proud.

he is crying heavily as he raises his head, his sweet white skin all red and blotchy. Sad little creature. I watch with mild interest as he swallows, two gulps, he knows better than to spit the gift I have given him. he wipes at his mouth, and eyes, salt-scented breath coming out in the oddest little gasps. By all definition, I suppose, I did rape him.

I cup the side of his face, My thumb stroking at the damp, flushed skin. There is an interesting beauty about him when he is like this. It makes Me _almost_ feel a little guilt for hurting him.

"Don't _touch_ me!" he hits Me, to my surprise, hard about the face, and a moment, later, spits in it. Far from continuing his attack, he stares at Me, mouth slightly open. More likely than not, he is in shock with himself. I certainly am.

"you." I growl. he managed to get Me in the cheek, the saliva mingled with my own semen. How humiliating. It is transferred, from My face to My hand to the bedsheets. he is trembling, quite violently, eyes wide with horror. It is in these moments where he ceases to be what he is, ceases to be Yadonushi. Sometimes, when it is all too much and he screams nonsensical sounds, scratching and biting and beating, he even ceases to be _human_.

And I _love _it.

I hit him, hard enough to leave a mark, hoping that it will provoke him. I am not disappointed. he smacks Me back, with a contemptuous gasp, and then punches Me, quite squarely, in the chest. In return, I pull on his hair, and slap him again. In return, he gets a blow in My eye. I wince, and hold at My eye, expressing this show of weakness and pain on purpose, and it works. he lunges, and I am flat on My back, laughing as he punches, slaps, hits, scratches.

"_Fuck_ You!" he screams. "_Fuck_ You, You fucking _bastard! _i hate You! i hate hate hate _hate_ You, You sick sonofabitch! You're the worst psycho i've ever _met!_" he breaks down into sobs with this, the tears flowing freely, as he continues his assault. Finally, he is spent. he slumps, with a low moan, against Me, hands trying to support himself on the mattress.

"Not broken, huh?" I note, watching as he stiffens, although his tears don't stop. "you attacked Me like an animal. you're not sane."

"i-i..." He lifts his head. "This is what You _want!_ Isn't it! _Isn't it!"_

"It's not what I want, but it's certainly entertaining." I state coolly, fair aching from the beating I received. "If you didn't _let_ yourself be broken by Me-"

"_Let_ myself?" his voice is high, bordering on shrill. "i _never!_ God_damn_ it, i _Love_ You!" he freezes at this, as though he can't quite believe what he has said.

"I know you do." I enjoy this reaction, his horror as he realises how little I care for how he feels. "If you didn't, why would you stick around? Why else would you put up with Me?"

"What do you want." he moans, beginning to sound defeated again. I wish that fire inside him would last longer than a few short minutes.

"Nothing." I am being truthful. "I like everything just how it is. I like that you Love Me, yet I force Myself upon you, having you cry and struggle beneath Me. I like the Games, the attempted shifting of power. I like having you fight against Me, blind with rage and insanity. I like owning you, completely, yet feeling nothing more than contempt and occasional interest towards you."

This is too much for him. he puts his head in his hands, and screams.

* * *

How?

How?

_How?_

How can He say that to me? How can He just sit there and break my world? How can He say that He knew i Loved him, that i idolized Him above all else, and that it meant nothing to Him? What kind of _Monster_ is He, to derive a sick pleasure from my emotional agony?

He's laughing to Himself in the darkness, quiet little chuckles, while i cry. Cry and cry and cry, and then cry some more. i'm amazed i still have tears left inside myself. i cannot help myself, however. i feel so _betrayed_, so abandoned and abused. It's all right for Him. He lies there, the blankets about His waist, arms folded behind His head, that smirk on His face. i, meanwhile, lie on my side, away from Him, curled up as tight as can be. i've hidden my face in my hands, but He can still hear me cry. It amuses Him, as does everything else.

i feel so let down. It's a pain that's ripped through me worse, than anything else i have ever felt before. How can i go on? How can i look Him in the eye, knowing that i am just an amusement to Him, while He is my whole world to me? i always knew i meant little, but i could never have feared _this_.

"B-Bakura." i whisper into the late night – or is it early morning? – air. i have used His name, and i feel Him stiffen, His chuckles cease.

"What?" He demands, quite snappishly. How fucking rude of Him. Sometimes, i feel as though i would like to hate Him.

"Why won't You Love me?" i sound pathetic, i know i do, but at this stage, i am far past caring. my heart is just too broken.

"Why wont _I _Love _you?_" He sounds incredulous. "Yadonushi, _look_ at yourself. Look at what you are. A pathetic, snivelling child. What would I, a powerful spirit, the exalted King of Thieves, ever want to have to do with _you?_"

"B-But..." i am trying. i want to salvage, something, anything, a shred, of something i could call hope. i feel as though i am about to lose myself completely. "I-Is there _anything_ i can do?"

"Yadonushi." The tone is bored. Perhaps He is getting bored with me, that is the problem. Is this a blessing, or a curse? "Get it through your thick head. I don't Love you. I never _will_ Love you.

"But..." i am sobbing, again. "P-Please... i need something."

"you have more than something." He drawls. "you have Me, all to yourself. I share My body with no one else. I have no other friends, or associates. you are the only person, mortal or not, that I talk to. Is that not enough?"

"i-i..." i roll over, onto my back. Truth be told, i had never thought of this, never realised this before. A tiny seed began to swell in my chest. "No one?"

"No one." He sighs. Perhaps He is tired. He rolls over, this time, onto His side, and His arm extends. His hand rests on my face, and His fingers stroke my cheek. "you are very beautiful."

"Thank you." We are settling again. Into these roles. He is my greater, my better. This i readily accept.

"you have a pretty voice." He goes on, and i blush in the dark. How silly of me, acting as though i am just a little schoolgirl.

"Thank you." i say again, peering at him through the gloom. If i continue to mope and cry, then perhaps He will leave me forever. This, i could never handle.

"Will You leave me?" i have to ask, the question burns inside me, needing to be answered.

"No." His voice is rough in the dark, and i sniff. "Sleep." It is a command.

"All right." i agree without protest. Silently, i burrow under the sheets, creating a cocoon for myself. i am crushed, lost and disappointed beyond words.

_He doesn't Love me._

But...

_He will never leave me._

He will hit. And shout and swear and punch and _rape._

_But He will not leave me._

i close my eyes.

And i will swear. i will shout and hit and punch, and bite and scratch, too. i fight back, and hard. i am not as completely spineless as people think.

_But He will not leave me._

i smile. No matter what He could do to me...

_i will never be broken._

* * *

It is sunrise.

Finally, I am able to study him in the light. his skin, which has faded back to its' pale, almost pallid, tone, his sleep-mussed hair, which has formed into a tangled halo around himself. his eyes, although they are closed, are clearly visible in My mind's eye. Some would say brown is a common colour – but his eyes are as uncommon as can be, wide and innocent, brimming with hope and pain and anger and God knows what else.

I want to touch him.

I run a finger, the nail clipped way back, along his cheek, and he doesn't move, makes no sound. I continue this adventure, down the juncture of his neck and down his throat.

And he is Mine.

I can take him, whenever I wished. As gentle, as rough, as kinky, as I liked. I could beat him black and blue and break all the bones in his body, and he wouldn't cease to become Mine.

He has fought, and will continue to fight, until the end of his days, stupid, Rebellious little acts of defiance against Me, ineffectual but symbolic. But, after all, they make this miserable mortal life more interesting. He is all I have. And I am all he has.

We will probably end up killing one another. I can see Myself strangling him, in a fit of anger, or passion, or both, and he would hit Me, hard, about the head, with a heavy, blunt object, a lamp, perhaps, and I would slump to the sheets, bleeding to death, while he chokes beneath Me, his windpipe too damaged, loss of air too great, to go on.

This thought is oddly arousing.

he will never leave Me. Even as he passes into adulthood and grows older than Me in this mortal form. he will always be the fairer, the weaker. Mine.

Because he Loves Me.

And I could never bring Myself to leave him.

* * *

Awwh fluff.

Sort of.

R&R?


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